


A Helping Hand

by gleefulmusings



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Mild Language, Multi, Schmoop, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn is injured on the football field and is taken to the hospital. With his parents tied up and unable to get away, he's all alone, until Kurt Hummel descends on Lima like a prissy avenging angel. Injured!Finn, BAMF!Kurt, epic Kinn brotherhood, and fluff so ridiculous it will make your teeth rot. Plus Kurt/Sam/Santana goodness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Medic!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is fluff bordering on crack. I like Kinn brotherhood as much as I do Kinn romance, so I've taken that brotherhood and manipulated it to the extreme, just because I can. Kurt and Finn are so in love with each other as brothers in this, that it's ridiculous. This is set in some vague period after "Blame It On the Alcohol." Eventual KuSS (Kurt/Sam/Santana). Enjoy!

Finn Hudson had always known that he was basically a little girl trapped in the body of Magilla Gorilla. But not a little girl like Puck's sister. Finn was pretty sure that _Orphan_ was really a biopic of Sarah Puckerman. He just couldn't prove it.

_Yet_.

So, he was secretly a huge girl, but was smart enough to hide it most of the time, at least from people who didn't know him well, like Rachel or Puck. They would always tease him when he hurt himself tripping over his own feet, or slamming into doorways which were too narrow for his shoulders, or breathing too hard during Halo and hyperventilating. He knew they were just kidding around, but they were sometimes really mean about his clumsiness.

It wasn't his fault he was so tall and uncoordinated! He hadn't _asked_ to be Gigantor.

So when he'd landed awkwardly from a tackle during a scrimmage, he knew to suck it up and not cry, even though he was pretty sure his wrist was broken. But it really _hurt_. The only thing that kept him from screaming in agony was that Puck was watching him closely and smirking. Finn knew what _that_ meant, could all but hear the taunting sneers about to be unleashed. So he manned up and swallowed his pain before Puck could add to it.

"You all right, Hudson?" Coach Beiste gruffly asked, though there was genuine concern lacing the question.

Finn grunted, wondering why Puck couldn't be more like Beiste, but then realized Puck was too much of a poseur ever to be as badass as she was. He bit his lip to keep from laughing at the sudden image of Puck _vs_. Beiste at Puck's fight club. Beiste would so totally own him.

"I think it's broken," he muttered.

She scowled and nodded. "Hospital, then. Want me to call your mom to come and get you?"

He shook his head. "She can't get off work and my stepdad is in Dayton today. Maybe Mr. Schue could take me? His car's still in the lot."

"Go on up to the school, then," she said. "Need help, or can you get there on your own?"

Puck laughed.

Finn gritted his teeth. "I can do it. It's just a broken wrist."

"Then why are you still here?" She turned her back to him and glared at the rest of the team before launching into a blistering tirade about how they had failed to protect their quarterback, singling out Puck for most of her abuse.

Finn all but skipped toward the school, a goofy smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Schue had been super nice about the whole thing and taken him to Lima Memorial in his really nasty car. Finn thought about telling him that he could get the man a discount at Burt's shop if Mr. Schue wanted to bring his wreck in to have it looked over, but decided he should probably keep his mouth shut. He was surprised at his own discretion and wondered if broken bones made you smarter.

Mr. Schue had filled out all of the paperwork and even called his mom for him, which had made Finn a little angry. His mom had been so upset that she couldn't get off work to come to the hospital. She was even crying a little. Finn felt so guilty. His mom worked really hard, and though his wrist was killing him and he wanted a hug, he told himself to get over it and told her not to worry about anything. He'd be fine. It was just a broken wrist. She had sniffled and told him she would bring home his favorite pizza for dinner.

He'd had to wait in the emergency room for a really long time, which he didn't understand, because there was no one else there. Where was everyone? He hadn't seen a doctor or a nurse anywhere, just some lady sweeping up in the atrium. Why would people litter in a hospital? That was so rude. And, like, with global warming or whatever, kind of dangerous. Kurt had told him that it was only a few more years until they saw penguins surfing on icebergs down the middle of Main Street. Finn had thought it sounded pretty cool, but apparently global warming was a Big Important Issue and Kurt had asked Rachel to explain it all for him.

Kurt really was a bastard sometimes.

That was okay, though. Finn had paid him back by throwing out all of Kurt's hair products because they had chloro-somethings in them. He simply couldn't allow his brother to widen the hole in the ozone layer just for the sake of vanity.

He'd thought he'd gotten away with it until a week later, when he'd put on his jockstrap only to find that Kurt had saturated it in Ben Gay and allowed it to dry.

Total bastard.

 

* * *

 

Finn was seated in an exam room, after insisted that Schue take off, waiting to see a doctor. He'd had his x-rays and the tech had told him that the wrist was indeed broken, which, duh, Finn had figured out a while ago, and then they put him in some big metal tube that was really loud and made his headache even worse, and then finally some nursing assistant had dropped by to give him an analgesic.

Apparently, that was a pain reliever. He hadn't _meant_ to offend her when he initially turned down her offer of anal. How was he supposed to know? He wasn't a medical professional.

The doctor had finally come in and again reiterated that Finn had a broken wrist, but had used a lot of big words to sound important and then glared when Finn had rolled his eyes.

The doctor was a real jerk who looked even younger than Finn. He was arrogant and mean and bossy, and kept talking about how he was going to be late for his date at the club. Finn was confused. What club, and who made a date for squash? Was there some kind of vegetable kink he didn't know about?

The doctor also had really bad breath, which was totally gross and something that Finn was sure must have been against the Hypocritical Oath. The creepy doctor kept talking about all the football injuries he had procured when he was Finn's age, but since the guy was short and almost painfully thin, Finn wondered how they had all happened.

He supposed he shouldn't have asked if the doctor himself had _been_ the football, because the guy just got a lot more ticked off. He started using words that Finn didn't understand _at all_ , and he kept looking at him like he thought Finn was stupid for not being a doctor or something.

Finn hated that he was alone. He knew that he was a big boy now and everything, but he really was in a lot of pain and he just wanted his mom. He felt stupid for being so weak and needy, but he still had a whole year before he was eighteen and an adult, so he really needed to cram a lot of coddling in there.

The door then slammed open and Kurt Hummel sailed inside the room.

Finn blinked owlishly. "Kurt?" he slurred.

Kurt gave that half-smile he had perfected into an art form before his eyes slowly panned the room, taking everything in. Finn saw Kurt glance at McCreepy, watching as his brother's eyes narrowed. He could tell Kurt instantly hated the dude and felt vindicated. He also really admired how Kurt could walk into a room, take a quick breath, assess everything, and then act accordingly.

Kurt was such an awesome bastard, and Finn sensed his awesome bastard brother was about to punch McCreepy's ticket in.

"Hello Finn," he said brusquely. "Carole called me as soon as she got off the phone with you. She was very upset that she couldn't be here herself, so I excused myself from my remaining classes and arrived as quickly as I could."

"You did that for me?" Finn whispered.

"Of course I did. I'm just sorry it took me so long to get here."

Kurt stepped gingerly around the room, opening various drawers of the bureaus until he emerged with a blanket, which he promptly draped over Finn's legs and tucked tightly around his waist. Thank Cheesus! His teeth were chattering, he was so cold. Kurt then loosened and retied the strings of Finn's dressing gown, causing the boy to release a relieved sigh. It had been really tight.

"I'm so sorry you were alone for so long," Kurt mournfully continued, "but don't worry, I'm here now and I'll stay with you until you're discharged and then drive you home. Dalton is closed tomorrow for a Professional Day, so I don't have to return until next week. I'll take care of everything."

Tears pricked at Finn's eyes. Wow, what he ever do to deserve a brother like Kurt?

"Who are you?" the doctor demanded.

Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at the man. "Excuse me? Who are _you_?"

The man gaped. "I'm the doctor."

Kurt sniffed. "We'll see about that."

"I'm sorry?"

"You certainly are," Kurt agreed. "It took you long enough to question my identity. You should have done so as soon as I crossed the threshold. I simply strolled into a private examination room in a tier-one hospital, conducted a conversation with your patient, whose medical records are in plain sight of myself, and you did nothing but sit there and gape like a fussy old woman who just lost the last round of bingo.

"I believe that is a violation of my brother's HIPAA rights. I'll be looking into it. Also, you should have recognized that he was in shock and done your part to keep him warm. This room is freezing, he's trembling, his eyes are glassy, and he's in a thin hospital gown with no pants on, for which I fail to see the reason. Could you explain it to me?"

"Your brother," the man slowly repeated.

"Well, I think we've ascertained that your short-term memory is indeed functional. My worry for my only brother, whom I love _very_ much, is marginally satisfied. Now, as our parents are unavailable, would you please be so kind as to explain Finn's injuries and his prognosis?"

The doctor stared at him.

Kurt was unimpressed and rolled his eyes. "I _do_ hope you're not unnecessarily drawing this out merely so that you can pad your bill by submitting a claim for a level four visit. I go over our insurance company's explanations of benefits with a fine tooth comb, and I'll not hesitate to report suspected fraud."

"Are you even old enough to drive, let alone act as your _alleged_ brother's guardian?" the man demanded. "Look, _little_ _boy_ , I understand you're hysterical because you're concerned about your _boyfriend_ or whatever," he sneered, using air quotes and rolling his eyes, "but you can't barge in here and speak to me this way. Leave now, or I'll contact Security."

"You can't talk to my brother like that!" Finn growled.

Kurt gave McCreepy a pretty smile as his eyes turned so arctic that the doctor instantly shut his mouth. "My, such aspersions you cast upon my character, Doctor…I'm sorry, you didn't introduce yourself. What is your name."

It was a demand, not a question.

"I'm Dr. Patterson."

"How absolutely _lovely_ for no one but you," Kurt snapped back. "I am Kurt Hummel, Finn Hudson's brother. If you had bothered to examine his medical records at _all_ , you would see that they clearly indicate our relationship, that I am his emergency contact following our parents, and thus I am more than capable of assuming custody of him in their stead.

"Further, I dearly hope that your mistaken and utterly patronizing assessment of our relationship was in no way a homophobic comment on your part, or I will be contacting this hospital's Board of Directors, the Department of Patient Advocacy, the American Medical Association, and any other organization I feel should be informed of how you represent this fine institution."

Finn smirked.

"I didn't…I _wasn't_ …"

"Oh, I'm _so_ glad," Kurt sweetly interjected. "I'm very familiar with the commitment to quality Lima Memorial provides their patients. My family endowed this hospital several years ago with a fellowship, after my mother, Suzanne Grayson Hummel, passed away. We're in the process of endowing another for the exemplary care my father, Burt Hummel, received after his heart attack earlier this year."

"Hummel," Patterson slowly repeated, his brain recognizing that he had bitten off way more than he could chew. Especially if this was the _same_ Hummel whose picture he had seen on the desk of the Chief of Staff. Oh, _shit_.

"No autographs, please."

Finn snickered wildly, if not slightly hysterically, and Kurt reached up, placed his hands around Finn's neck, and drew his head down. He placed a soft kiss on Finn's forehead and then pulled it flush with his own, staring into Finn's eyes.

"I know you hate hospitals," Kurt said quietly. "I do, too. I'm going to make sure you're taken care of, that you get everything you need, and then we'll go home and I'll put you to bed and make you that homemade ice cream you like so much, okay? You just need to be brave for a little bit longer and this will all be over."

"I love you." Finn sniffled loudly. "My wrist really hurts."

Kurt frowned. "I know, sweetie, and I love you too. We're almost done here, and Dad and Carole are on their way home, so they'll be there probably before we will. Carole said she's bringing your favorite pizza."

Finn nodded. "You'll have some with me? And we can watch movies?"

Kurt winced. "Of course we can. Your choice." He swallowed heavily. "And, yes, I'll have _one_ _slice_ of pizza."

Finn beamed. "Yay."

Kurt patted his shoulder and crossed the room to look at the displayed x-rays, frowning more deeply.

McCreepy sighed, shaking his head. He didn't have time for this. "As I was explaining to your _brother_ , he has a broken wrist, which means…"

Kurt snorted. "What my brother has is a lunate fracture; specifically, a coronal fracture of the dorsal pole. This suggests that his wrist was hyperextended during the course of the injury."

Finn and McCreepy stared at him.

"This _was_ confirmed by an orthopedist, correct, and is not just the opinion of the radiologist?"

"It was confirmed by the on-call orthopedist, yes," said the bewildered McCreepy.

Kurt spun around on his heel and looked at this brother. "Finn, did you fall during practice? Is that how you fractured your wrist?"

Finn nodded.

"Did you hold out your hand to brace your fall?" He held his own hand own, palm up. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "And the heel of your hand struck the ground? This part here?" he asked, demonstrating with his own.

"Yeah," Finn repeated.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Finn," he said slowly, "did you fall, or were you pushed?"

Finn looked down.

"Who pushed you?" Kurt hissed. "Was it Puck?"

Finn shook his head, which made him dizzy. "I don't know who pushed me. It wasn't Puck, but Coach said that I probably wouldn't have been hurt if Puck had been guarding me like he was supposed to."

Kurt stepped forward. "Did Puck laugh at you when you fell? And don't you even _think_ of lying to me, Finn Hudson."

Finn shivered. "He didn't laugh, but I think he wanted to."

Kurt curled a lip. "I'll deal with him later. Now, who pushed you? It wasn't Sam, was it?"

"No," Finn said vehemently. "I really don't know who pushed me, since they were behind me, but Sam would _never_ do something like that, even though I probably deserve it. I got him hurt and stole his girlfriend and everything. Besides, I could see Sam the whole time."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're right about Sam, and don't get me started on Quinn."

Patterson's head whipped back and forth as though he were paying careful attention to a tennis match.

"Dude, she really misses you," Finn whispered.

Kurt sighed. "Then she shouldn't have been cheating on my best friend with my brother. She shouldn't have cheated on my brother last year with Puck. She shouldn't have sold out one of her best friends or ditched Mercedes because it was convenient."

"She's really sorry, Kurt, and I hurt Sam too."

"I know," Kurt agreed, nodding, "and I'm still very angry with you for that, but since no one else is holding Quinn responsible for her actions, it's up to me, and I do it very well."

Finn nodded.

"Who _are_ you people!" Patterson exclaimed.

"That information has already been established," Kurt said. "Now, I assume Finn presented with weakness of the wrist and pain aggravated with compression along the third digital ray, as well as palpation tenderness along the volar wrist?"

McCreepy nodded dumbly.

"Kurt's really smart," Finn confided to him.

The other boy blushed lightly.

"Aw," Finn cooed.

"Stop that," Kurt scolded, before clearing his throat. "I presume that, due to overlapping radiodensities, an MRI was performed? I would certainly hope so, in order for this diagnosis to have been made."

"It was," a confused Patterson replied. Seriously, who the fuck was this kid? His eyes narrowed with suspicion. This Hummel boy was far too informed about hospital protocol, and the diagnosis he had just reached was beyond even most physicians who didn't have a specialty in orthopedics.

His eyes widened. A ringer.

The kid had to be a ringer, but for whom? Was the hospital being investigated? Did he work for some HMO who was about to launch a hostile takeover? A medical malpractice investigation corporation? Just because he looked young didn't mean he was. Perhaps some Restalin or human growth hormone. Maybe even stem cells. The possibilities were endless.

Best to play this carefully, McCreepy wisely decided.

"Any sign of vascular injury or osteonecrosis?" Kurt barked.

"None was detected."

Kurt exhaled noisily and nodded, pleased. "As the fracture was neither displaced nor angulated, he will be treated with cast immobilization?"

Patterson blinked. "He will."

"Long or short arm?"

"Long."

Kurt pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully, making mental calculations and schedule adjustments. "To confirm, surgical intervention will not be required?"

Finn gasped. "Surgery? I don't want to have surgery, Kurty!" he wailed.

Kurt ignored him and stared at the doctor, who shook his head.

"Unnecessary."

Kurt nodded. "Percocet for the pain?"

McCreepy blinked and then nodded in concert.

"I assume follow-up care will be rigorous and proceed at close intervals? I refuse to allow my brother to fall prey to Kienbock disease."

"How the _fuck_ do you know all of this?" McCreepy demanded.

Kurt elegantly shrugged a shoulder. "I Googled it as I was driving here."

" _What?_ There is absolutely no way you could have learned how to read x-rays, let alone come up with a lunate fracture diagnosis, just from your Google-Fu!"

"I have many skills." He turned to Finn and gave his brother a bright smile. "Okay, Finny! Dr. Patterson is going to put a cast on your wrist to make you all better and then we'll go home. I'll even let you pick the music for the ride."

Finn eyes widened to the size of saucers. " _You're_ letting _me_ pick the music? I'm not dying, am I?"

Kurt pouted. "Don't ever tease me about something like that, Finn Hudson. Now, you think about what color you want your cast to be. Personally, I would go with blue, since it matches most of your clothes, or red, to set off your eyes and skin tone. Plain white is boring and gets dirty too easily. Further, any messages put on the cast must be approved by me, and I _will_ be spell-checking."

"Kurt," Finn whined.

Kurt waved at him dismissively. "I'm going to step outside and call Aunt Liddie to get a referral to the best orthopedist in Allen County, as well as for a physical therapist. I will not allow this injury to derail your football career and any possible scholarships."

Finn frowned. "Who's Aunt Liddie?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Santana's mother."

"Oh," he whispered.

Kurt turned, hands on hips, and smiled at Patterson. "I'm sure you're familiar with Dr. Lydia Lopez, your Chief of Staff."

Patterson paled. _Fuck_.

"Her daughter, Santana, is one of my dearest friends."

Patterson paled further.

Kurt grinned. "I see you've been acquainted with Miss Lopez." He leaned forward slightly. "Allow me to take the opportunity to assure you that I am _far_ more dangerous than she."

"Dude. He _really_ is," Finn confirmed. "He's a total ninja. He's got swords and everything."

"I'll be right back, brother mine," Kurt said, storming from the room.

Patterson shakily sat down on his stool.

"I think I'll go with the blue," Finn chirped.


	2. Said the Spider to the Fly

Kurt led Finn through the front door of their home, the latter clutching a new teddy in his good hand with a bright yellow balloon tied around his wrist. Kurt was shaking his head and muttering under his breath about lightweight gorillas.

"We're home!" he wearily called out.

Carole burst out from the kitchen, tears in her eyes, and cooed and clucked over her poor baby. Kurt rolled his eyes and removed his blazer, hanging both it and Finn's jacket in the hall closet.

"Hi Mommy!" Finn screamed.

Burt, who had strolled out after his wife, raised a bemused eyebrow and turned toward his son, who again rolled his eyes.

"Completely stoned," Kurt explained. "They gave him a pill just before he was discharged. One Percocet and he was gone. He wouldn't leave the pharmacy without the bear and the balloon."

Burt snickered.

"I named the bear Kurty!" Finn beamed. "This is Kurty Bear! Isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?" he cooed. He held the bear up before his face and rubbed their noses together. "Eskimo kisses!"

Kurt squeezed shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Burt laughed his ass off.

Carole was doing her level best not to snicker. "That's a very smart looking bear you've got there, Finny."

He nodded furiously. "Now I get to carry Kurt with me everywhere I go!" He peered down at the bear, scrutinizing it. "Kurty Bear needs a fabulous hat," he said decidedly.

Burt leaned against the wall and laughed so hard that tears were rolling down his face.

"Make it stop," Kurt whined.

"I want a hug," Finn pouted.

Carole held out her arms, puzzled when her son flinched away in horror.

"Not from you!" Finn exclaimed. "From Kurt!" He dived at his brother, who simply didn't have the room to maneuver away from the ambush.

"This was not listed among the possible side effects of his medication," Kurt said stiffly, as Finn proceeded to maul him.

Carole and Burt laughed harder.

"Kurt's the best brother ever!" Finn bellowed.

"He has no idea how loud he is," Kurt said calmly. "He can hear us just fine, but is unable to regulate the volume of his responses. I'd find it amusing if he hadn't spent half an hour in the pharmacy noisily proclaiming how adorable I am and that, with the right outfit, I could be the new spokes-leprechaun for Lucky Charms."

Burt cackled and slid down the wall, collapsing on the floor and sobbing with mirth.

"I'm so glad you're amused," Kurt coldly told his father. "We'll see how amused you continue to be when you receive the bill for the amount of retail therapy I will require to move past this trauma."

Burt began sobbing for a totally different reason as Carole's chuckling turned dark and rather evil.

Kurt nodded with satisfaction.

"You don't want to be my brother anymore, Kurty?" Finn whispered, his eyes bright. "Was I bad again? I'm so sorry I called you that mean word that one time. Please don't unlove me!" He started bawling.

Kurt sighed and shook his head. It was impossible to react as he normally would – using a spiked aluminum mallet to tenderize Finn's already doubtlessly mushy skull. His brother was just too loveable and cute like this to seek vengeance upon him. Once Finn passed out, however, it would be an entirely different story. So he sucked it up and put on a Happy Face.

"Of course not, Finn. You're a good brother and I love you very much."

Finn smiled tearfully and then frowned. "You don't think McCreepy followed us home, do you?" he asked in a panicked voice before darting toward the front door and peering out of the peephole.

"McCreepy?" Carole asked.

Kurt pursed his lips. "The attending physician at the hospital. I was not impressed with his attitude or bone structure. He talked down to Finn and attempted to intimidate me due to my age and sexual orientation."

Burt shot to his feet as Carol smirked.

"And what did you do, Kurt?" she asked knowingly.

Kurt brushed imaginary lint from his tie. "I _may_ have used threats and intimidation myself, as well as causing him to question his chosen profession and place in this world."

Carole snickered. Burt placed a hand on his son's shoulder and congratulated him.

"Kurt was awesome!" Finn shrieked. "McCreepy was gross and wouldn't let me put on my pants."

"What!" Burt and Carole howled.

"An oversight, not a perversion," Kurt elaborated, "though I did make a note of it for him. I'm sure he'll be more careful in the future."

Burt smiled coldly. "I'm sure he will."

Carole embraced her stepson. "Thank you so much, honey. I knew I made the right decision calling you."

Kurt quickly hugged back and then pulled away, waving dismissively. "I was happy to do it," he replied. "Finn's my brother. I'll always be there when he needs me."

Finn burst into tears again.

Kurt sighed. "Come on, big guy. I promised you pizza and movies."

Finn cheered. "Whoop! There it is!"

Kurt blinked. "What."

 

* * *

 

It took twenty minutes for Kurt to get Finn settled in bed.

"What would you like to watch?" he asked.

Finn hemmed and hawed for several moments. "Something funny?"

Kurt nodded swiftly. "A comedy it is. Any preferences?"

" _Clue_."

Kurt's eyes widened. "You have _Clue_? You like _Clue_?"

"Best movie ever!" Finn screamed in a very good imitation of Oprah's Excited Voice. "I love that movie! Miss Scarlet is so hot!"

"She is indeed," Kurt agreed, "though I much prefer Mrs. White."

"Flames," Finn whispered. "Flames on the side of my face."

Kurt's eyes sparkled. "I had no idea, Finn. It's one of my favorite movies, too."

"Yay!"

"Okay, I'll set up the film and then go and get the pizza. What would you like to drink? I'd suggest juice. You don't want anything to upset your stomach. I think the pizza alone is pushing it."

"But I love pizza, Kurty," Finn pouted.

"What did I tell you about calling me that?"

"That I shouldn't?"

"Exactly."

"But it's so cute! And so are you!"

"Nonetheless…"

"You let Sam call you Kurty," Finn said accusingly.

"Sam is my best friend."

"Do you call him Sammy?"

"I do."

Finn thought hard about that. "Oh." He frowned, then emerged with a triumphant grin. "But you called me Finny before."

Kurt grit his teeth. "So I did." He sighed, crossing the room and inserting the DVD into the player. "I guess I'll allow it, but only in private. You may not call me that in front of our friends, _especially_ Rachel."

Finn nodded seriously. "I promise."

"Acceptable, then."

A sudden realization dawned and Finn's eyes glazed, shining with fear.

Kurt reeled back, instinctively knowing that Finn's revelation would not be pleasing; if anything, the potential for mental scarring would be severe.

"Kurty, I broke my jerking off wrist," Finn whispered in horror.

Kurt spun on his heel and charged toward the door. "I absolutely cannot help you with that."

"You'd help Sammy!" a belligerent Finn called out.

A horrified Kurt fled downstairs. The medication must have been wearing off, he told himself.

Finn smirked. "Knew it."

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Finn had been fed and watered and sufficiently calmed down with _Clue_ , happy to listen as Kurt recited the dialogue of the movie word-for-word. It was pretty cool, especially since Kurt could flawlessly mimic Wadsworth's posh accent.

Finn yawned and somehow remembered to cover his mouth in the manner which his brother was always harping on him to do. "I'm sleepy, Kurt."

Kurt shifted from the bed, where he had been an unwilling victim of a Finn Hudson Snuggle Attack, and rose to his feet. "Then you should sleep, Finn," he said gently. "It's almost time for your medication again. Would you like some warm milk?"

"Yes, please."

Kurt blinked and did a double take at the rare show of manners.

"Kurt, would you please call Quinn and tell her that I'm okay?"

Kurt pursed his lips. Ah, the reason for the manners manifests itself. "No," he said resolutely. "I have no wish to speak to her. What I will do is text her, or I will ask Carole to make the call."

Finn sighed piteously. "It really sucks that my brother won't even talk to my girlfriend. I like Blaine."

Kurt went rigid. "Blaine and I are not seeing each other romantically, Finn. We're just friends."

Finn tilted his head and peered up through his lashes as Kurt. "You're not kidding," he said softly.

Kurt shook his head. "I've told you before that we're not dating. We never were."

"Oh," Finn whispered. "I thought you were just saying that so Burt and me wouldn't give Blaine a hard time." His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, I guess I was confused. I thought you liked him…that way."

Kurt swallowed heavily and averted his eyes. "I did. My feelings were not reciprocated."

Finn bit his lip. This wasn't fair, and it brought up all of his regrets of that night in the basement, of how he hadn't been able to return Kurt's feelings and had instead lashed out in anger. It made him remember that there had been some moments where he had sincerely wished he had been able to love Kurt the way Kurt had wished. Because in some really crazy and scary way, his non-romance with Kurt had been the healthiest relationship he'd ever had.

Then his eyes focused and all of his anger shifted to Blaine. Stupid Blaine with his stupid hair and his stupid bird and his stupid dapperness.

Kurt should have someone, someone awesome like Finn had believed Blaine to be. But if Blaine didn't want Kurt, that just meant Blaine was completely lacking in awesome. What gay in his right mind wouldn't want Kurt? Even Finn had reached the point where he could admit, if only to himself and in a narcotic haze, that Kurt was majorly hot. Certainly hotter than Blaine.

Oh, maybe that had been the problem. Blaine must have realized that he was way out of Kurt's league. So maybe Blaine wasn't a complete asshole, but he'd have to think about it further.

Kurt deserved someone better, anyway. Kurt deserved someone who would hold his in hand in public and tell everyone in the vicinity how lucky he was to be acknowledged by someone like Kurt Hummel. He deserved someone who would love him back. Kurt deserved someone who had common interests and who was handsome and smart and strong.

Like Sam.

_Oh._

"You want me to beat Blaine up for you?" Finn asked. "Because I totally will, and it's sort of my job to punish idiot dudes who don't get how cool you are."

Kurt choked out a harsh peal of laughter even as he blushed so severely, he looked like a stalk of rhubarb. "I appreciate the offer, Finn, but I don't think that will be necessary. He can't force himself to love me, and I wouldn't want him if he tried."

Finn nodded seriously. "What about Sam?" he asked, trying and failing for nonchalance. He narrowed his eyes; he wanted to know. "Kurt, you can tell me. I promise I won't get in his face or anything. I just really want you to be happy."

"Sam and I are very close friends," Kurt said primly. And then he shut his mouth.

Finn cocked an eyebrow as something niggling in the back of his mind came to the fore. Sam wasn't dating anyone. In fact, all of Sam's time was spent with Kurt and... "Santana?"

Kurt smirked. "Santana and Sam are also very close friends. I am very close friends with both of them."

Finn paled and shivered under his blankets. What the _actual_ fuck? Kurt couldn't possibly mean…could he?

Kurt's smirk lengthened into a leer.

Oh. Holy. Shit.

Kurt dusted off his pristine outfit and strode from the room. "I'm going to get your milk and medication, then it's time for you to go to sleep. I will text Quinn, I promise," he called out over his shoulder.

"Thanks," Finn absently mumbled, mind blown.

Was Kurt having sex with both Sam and Santana? But Kurt was gay!

This couldn't be happening. This simply _could not_ be happening.

Kurt didn't like girls. Mercedes had crushed on him hard and gotten nowhere. Brittany had dated him just for show, though it was pretty obvious she still carried a torch for him. The summer after she had given birth, Quinn had flirted pretty heavily with Kurt and had been shot down. After she had made out with Blaine, Rachel had come to the conclusion that it was really _Kurt_ she wanted; Kurt had laughed in her face and then run screaming towards the nearest shower.

There was no way Kurt could be sexually interested in Santana. Right?

Oh god! Was Kurt having threesomes? Orgies? Was he using condoms? Did he understand how condoms worked? Was Kurt having steamy bisexual intercourse with Sam Evans and Santana Lopez?

Was there video available?

"Bad Finn!"

 

* * *

 

Kurt calmly walked into his kitchen and began preparing Finn's warm milk, alternately tuning in to his parents' conversation.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Carole," Burt said kindly.

She raised an eyebrow. "This is _Finn_ we're talking about."

He winced.

"Problem?" Kurt smoothly interrupted.

"Carole's just worried about how Finn will cope with both his injury and school, son," Burt said.

Kurt gave an elegant shrug. "Then allow me to put your minds at ease. Tomorrow I will be accompanying Finn to school, as Dalton is closed."

Carole blinked. "What?"

Kurt nodded. "It's the logical course of action. He will need help negotiating the halls and his classes, as well as opening his locker throughout the day and explaining his injury to his teachers and how it will impact him during the next several weeks. None of Finn's friends share all of his classes, and he needs someone who can take notes and collect his assignments. At lunch, I will coordinate his schedule with those of the other members of New Directions to ensure that they will be able to pick up the slack in the following weeks. They will, of course, comply with my directives."

Burt gave him a proud smile but then frowned. "What about that hockey player?"

Kurt gave an elegant shrug. "He doesn't scare me. He's now on record for harassment and making threats. If he tries anything, I'll just call the police and have him arrested. As I am no longer a student at McKinley, any confrontation between us is no longer a simple internal matter. Besides, I'll alternately have Sam or Santana with me throughout the day, and Coach Sue is just looking for an excuse to dismember Karofsky."

Burt gave him a look. "You really think Evans will want to hang around Finn after those shenanigans with Quinn?"

Carole growled. Quinn was not one of her favorite topics for discussion.

"It's not about Finn, Dad, it's about _me_ ," Kurt sniffed. "Everything important is, and if it's not, then it simply doesn't matter."

He waited patiently for his parents' shrieks of laughter to subside.

"Sam would never pass up the opportunity for us to spend more time together, so he'll put up with Finn for my sake." He raised an eyebrow. "No, Dad. Sam and I are not sleeping together."

Burt flushed heavily.

Kurt snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. Finn tried to be cute and lull me into a false sense of security to get me to discuss my romantic life, or lack thereof. Therefore, it was necessary for me to lay a trap into which he easily fell."

Carole brightened. "Do tell."

"Finn currently believes that I am having sex with both Sam and Santana."

Carole's laughter rang throughout the lower level of the house.

Despite his discomfort, Burt could see the sheer genius of his wily son's scheme. "Poor Finn," he sighed.

Kurt scoffed. "Oh, please. He's actively trying to involve me in his mess with Quinn and I've refused. They've made their metaphorical bed, and now they will have to lie in it. After everything Finn went through because of Puck, he turned around and did the same thing to Sam." He shook his head. "I love Finn, and I truly consider him my brother, but I don't owe him my allegiance when he's being an idiot, and certainly not when it would pit me against my best friend – the only friend who ever actively sought to defend me from my tormenters."

Kurt waited for it and smiled triumphantly when Burt's chest puffed with pride and appreciation for one Sam Evans. Burt actually adored Sam, but felt the need to play the devil's advocate where his son's virtue was concerned. Kurt appreciated his father's care and worry, but they both knew Sam would never intentionally hurt him.

Kurt bustled around the kitchen to finish his preparations for Finn's milk. "Sam and Santana will be stopping by later. Santana needs me to plan her outfits for the next week, and Sam is still convinced that I will learn to appreciate NASCAR the more he forces me to watch it." He hummed for a moment. "I think we'll have to coordinate a plan of attack. Why limit this delicious opportunity for scandal to just Finn?"

"How do you mean?" Carole tinkled, liking where this was going.

Kurt grimaced. "Apparently, Noah felt the need to laugh at Finn's injury. That is completely unacceptable."

Carole nodded.

"The one thing Noah understands above all else is sex," Kurt continued. "If I were to engineer a situation which caused him to believe that I am sleeping with both Sam and Santana, there is every possibility that his brain will implode and leak out of his ears, which would make Finn feel better and be terribly entertaining for me."

Burt snickered but tried to hide it with his hand, convinced that if he didn't laugh, it simply wasn't funny, even though he was roaring with glee inside. "Why are you telling us your nefarious plan?"

Kurt raised a brow. "Nefarious, Dad? Really? I'm so proud, I could shoot a three-pointer from the line."

Burt rolled his eyes.

"You know how rumors run rampant in this town. It's easier to bring you both in at the beginning rather than allowing things to spin out of control and worrying you for no good reason."

Burt stared at him. "You're an evil little bastard, but you're a good guy."

Kurt cocked his head and smirked. "So, basically, I'm the gay you."

Carole collapsed over the table, beating it with a fist as she laughed uproariously.

Kurt then poured Finn's milk into his favorite mug and doled out his next dosage of Percocet, grateful that Finn would soon be asleep.

"By the way," he said, "I had the alleged medical professional write two separate prescriptions for Finn and then made photocopies of each of them. We don't want him completely zoned out while in school, so the second prescription is for a lower dosage. I'll deposit Finn in homeroom tomorrow morning and take his medication to the nurse. Percocet is a controlled substance, so there's a form you will have to sign, Carole, acknowledging that you are aware Finn is taking it.

"I'll also speak with Coach Beiste about his injury and upcoming physical therapy. I obtained references from Aunt Liddie for both an orthopedist and a physical therapist. I've already checked, and both participate with our insurance plan. I'll contact them tomorrow to set up preliminary appointments. I want to make sure that Finn will like them and actually work with them. There's no point in entrusting him to their care if he'll ignore their advice because he believes they're out to sabotage his relationship with Quinn or destroy America through the sale of toaster ovens."

Burt blinked. "What?"

Kurt sighed. "Please don't ask me to explain how Finn's mind works. It's frightening. In fact, I'm not sure which frightens me more: that I understand how he thinks, or that it's starting to make sense."

Carole nodded sagely, stood, and patted his shoulder. "Thank you so much for all of you've done, sweetie. It certainly looks like you've taken care of everything."

"I'm Kurt Hummel," he said imperiously as he strode from the room.


	3. Cryin' Time

Kurt toddled into Finn's room, a cup of warm milk in one hand and his brother's medication in the other.

Finn gave him a dopey smile. "You came back!"

Kurt blinked. "Of course I did, Finn Hudson. I wouldn't deny you pain relief." He tilted his head. "Well, not for very long."

"I was out of line before," Finn said softly. "Whatever's going on with you, Sam, and Santana isn't my business."

Kurt halted and peered curiously at him. "What brought about this change of thought?"

Finn sighed. "You're not happy. I like when you're happy. You're only happy when you're with them."

Kurt arched an eyebrow and wondered when Finn had become so observant. It was slightly unsettling. Even more so because his brother was correct: his fleeting moments of happiness were, as of late, with Sam and Santana. He supposed he should've realized that sooner. Huh.

"It's time for your pill," he said gently.

Finn stared up at him and opened his mouth.

Kurt snorted. "What am I, your priest? This isn't Last Rites." He rolled his eyes and dropped the pill into Finn's mouth before passing him the cup of milk.

Finn gulped the milk down, swallowing his pill in the process, and sighed with satisfaction. "It's really good. I never liked warm milk before. Or if I did, I never knew it." His eyes grew hazy. "There was lots of stuff I didn't know I liked until you became my brother." He gave an exaggerated blink and looked up at Kurt. "I like you. I don't think I ever told you that before. If I didn't, I should have. I'm really glad you're my brother, Kurt."

"I'm glad we're brothers too, Finn," Kurt whispered.

Finn's eyes became moist. "I'm sorry I'm not gay."

Kurt's mouth fell open. "What?"

"I'm sorry I'm not gay," Finn repeated, "because sometimes I wonder how things would be if I were. How _we_ would be. Do you think we'd be together, that we'd be happy?"

Kurt sat down gingerly on the edge of Finn's bed. "I honestly don't know. I don't think gay relationships are any easier than straight ones. We don't have very much in common, and we argue quite a bit."

"You would never cheat on me," Finn pouted.

"That's true," Kurt agreed. "Of course, Sam would never have cheated on Quinn," he scolded.

Finn sighed. "I know. I really was a dick to him. He didn't deserve that."

"No, he didn't," Kurt said, "but it takes two. Quinn made a decision to cheat on Sam. Am I angry at you for hurting Sam? Yes. But I'm angrier at her because she did to Sam what she once did to you."

Finn pulled a face. "You're worried. You're worried about _me_."

Kurt threw up his hands. "Of course I am, Finn! She cheated on you last year with your best friend. This year, she cheated on Sam with _his_ best friend, who just so happens to be you. I'm afraid she'll cheat on you again. There certainly is a pattern at play here. And if the worst happens, how will you feel then?"

Finn was silent for a long moment, thinking about his answer. "I'll feel that I got what I deserved," he finally said. "I know you don't want to believe it, but she's not the same person she was last year. I know she acts like it, but she's not. Drizzle changed everything for her."

Kurt stubbornly averted his gaze, though he knew his brother was being truthful.

Finn sighed. "You shouldn't be angrier at Quinn than at me. You were there last year. You know that even while I was still with Quinn and thought Drizzle was my baby, I chased after Rachel. I wasn't a good boyfriend to her, Kurt. We were together because we thought we should be. Now it's because we _want_ to be, even though we went about it in entirely the wrong way." He grabbed Kurt's hand. "Quinn hurt me, sure, but I hurt her too. And this time, _both_ of us hurt Sam."

"But Quinn's not my brother," Kurt said mulishly, snatching back his hand and crossing his arms defensively over his chest, "you are. It's not my job to protect her."

"But she was your friend, Kurt," Finn softly countered. "You liked her a lot, I know you did, and if someone had done to her what she and I did to Sam, you'd be planning their funeral right now."

Kurt grunted but didn't deny the accusation.

"Kurty," Finn said gently, "if Quinn and I had done this to anyone but Sam, would you be this upset?"

Kurt looked down at the floor.

"You don't need to protect me, Kurt," Finn continued. "I mean, I'm totally psyched that you want to, and I wish I had done a better job of protecting you. Hell, I wish I had done _anything_ to protect you. But you can't protect me from my own bad decisions. You give me good advice all the time and we both know I never follow it. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't think before I do stuff. Besides, I don't regret being with Quinn. I hate that we went about it the way we did, and I really hate that we hurt Sam, but I don't regret being with her."

Kurt gave him the side-eye. "Does being injured somehow make you smarter? Because I'll remember that the next time you're acting like a dick."

Finn's eyes flared with indignation and then widened with shock. "You said a bad word!"

Kurt shrugged. "It's a consequence of hanging out with Santana."

Finn nodded. "I get that."

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt whispered.

Finn's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For being my brother. I always wanted a brother when I was growing up, but I never thought I'd get one." He was quiet for a long moment. "If Dad was going to marry anyone after Mom died, I'm glad it was Carole. If anyone was going to be my brother, I'm very glad I got you."

"I love you, Kurty," Finn sniffled.

"I love you too, Finny."

Finn surged forward, used his good arm to grab Kurt around the waist, pulled his brother against his side and laid them back down on the bed, nuzzling Kurt's neck.

"This is quite gay," Kurt remarked after several moments of contented silence.

"For once, I really don't care."

 

* * *

 

"Sing me a song, Kurty," Finn mumbled.

"What would you like to hear?" Kurt asked.

Finn shrugged diffidently. "Something sad."

Kurt shifted until he was facing Finn. "Why something sad?"

Another shrug. "I feel sad, so I want to hear a sad song."

"Won't that just make you _more_ sad?"

"I don't think so," Finn said slowly. "Sometimes when you're sad, a sad song makes you feel better."

Kurt nodded. "It does, at that."

"But no show tunes."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I do know more songs than just show tunes, you know."

"Then why do you always sing show tunes?"

"Because that's what's expected of me," Kurt promptly answered. "Think about New Directions, Finn. What types of songs do we sing?"

Finn felt kind of giddy that Kurt still considered himself part of New Directions. "Um, classic rock and pop, mostly. And show tunes."

Kurt nodded. "My voice isn't well suited for classic rock."

"That's not true," Finn immediately denied. "You were awesome when we did _Livin' on a Prayer_."

Kurt blushed lightly. "Because I was part of an ensemble. I could never carry a song like that on my own."

Finn sincerely doubted that but said nothing. "You like pop music, though."

"Some of it," Kurt agreed, "but Schue was never interested in the type of pop music I prefer."

"You did Lady Gaga and Madonna," Finn protested.

Kurt arched a brow. "And were either of those featured in competition? Did I ever sing lead on a song in _any_ competition?"

Finn blinked. "Oh."

"I focused on show tunes because, other than Rachel, I'm most well-versed in that genre," Kurt said. "There were more solo opportunities for me, though that rarely happened."

Finn sighed and drew Kurt closer to him. "Schue really wasn't fair to you."

"No, he wasn't," Kurt easily agreed, "but I guess he knows what he's doing. Although he really needs to lay off Journey."

"Yeah. Is it any better for you in the Warblers?"

"Not so much," Kurt softly admitted. 'They're really only interested in featuring Blaine, and there's no room for anyone or anything that's unique."

Finn winced. "That sucks."

"Sometimes. Well, often. But I get by."

Finn struggled for something to say to make his brother feel better. "You sing better than Rachel."

"I know."

Finn snickered. A moment later he realized that, though he had been trying to cheer Kurt up, his statement was nevertheless true. Kurt _was_ a better singer, at least in his opinion. If he was stranded on a desert island and had to choose between listening only to Kurt or Rachel sing, he'd totally choose Kurt. He poked his brother between the ribs.

"You're not singing."

Kurt shook his head. "You're impossible."

Finn beamed. "I know. Start singing."

Kurt sighed but complied, humming the opening measures. Finn snuggled up against him.

" _Talking to myself and feeling old_ ," Kurt began. " _Sometimes I'd like to quit, nothing ever seems to fit. Hanging around, nothing to do but frown. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down._ "

Finn blinked owlishly. Kurt was using _that_ voice. The one he had employed during his Cheerios duet with Mercedes, that warm, rich register which had shocked everyone who had believed they had known all Kurt's voice could do.

He recognized the song was by the Carpenters. His mom loved them and their records had been a constant of his childhood. He had always been entranced by Karen's voice, though he would never have admitted to it, and now suspected he was so beguiled by Kurt's because it recalled hers. There was a tonal quality to both voices, such a crystalline purity, it demanded one to halt immediately whatever they were doing and pay due attention. When his mother used to work afternoon shifts, Finn would come home after school, plug his headphones into the stereo, close his eyes and turn up the volume to revel in Karen's sublime alto voice.

It had touched him, the way that now only Kurt's voice could. Even when they sang cheerful songs there was always just a touch of deep melancholy, of a desperate yearning, in Kurt's voice that squeezed at his heart and left him slightly breathless. He already felt tears pricking at his eyes and settled in for a good cry. He didn't have anything in particular to cry over; he just knew he needed to cry.

" _What I've got they used to call the blues. Nothing is really wrong_ ," Kurt's resonant voice contained just a hint of a chuckle in its delivery, " _feeling like I don't belong_." He took a longer breath than necessary. " _Walking around, some kind of lonely clown. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down_."

Finn closed his eyes and felt the tears spill over as he burrowed even further into Kurt's space. He had promised himself he would never again presume to understand what it meant to be Kurt, of the pain and suffering he endured because of his refusal to hide who he was, but he understood isolation. He knew what it was to have everyone look at him and judge him, though they really knew nothing about him. He understood the temerity it took to paste a happy smile on your face when there was nothing behind it, of the cost of putting on a front to appease your loved ones or to fool yourself into believing that things weren't as bad as you knew them to be.

He didn't know what it was to be gay, but he knew what it was to hurt. And, for the first time, he felt it was okay to share his hurt with someone else.

A gentle smile appeared on Kurt's face. " _Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you. Nice to know somebody loves me._ " He reached down and pulled Finn's hand from his waist and interlaced their fingers, pressing their palms tightly against each other. " _Funny, but it seems that it's the only thing to do, run and find the one who loves me._ "

" _The one who loves me_ ," Finn harmonized as Kurt held the last note of the stanza for all it was worth.

He loved Kurt so much that it surprised him. Ever since last year he knew he had feelings for Kurt, not romantic ones, but there was always something between them just waiting to be recognized. He wasn't sure when or why it had happened, but Kurt had become one of the most important people in his life, and Finn knew it was a permanent thing. It could never be changed and he would never want it to be.

But the emotion in Kurt's voice now, the depth and breadth of feeling he obviously had for him, of how much Kurt truly _loved_ him, made the tears flow faster.

Kurt gave a startled blink, not only because Finn knew the song, but at how their voices blended. They had never really sung together before, just the two of them, and certainly not while Kurt was using his chest voice. But it was perfect.

In that moment, they were perfect together.

And Kurt didn't feel sad or angry or resentful. He didn't mourn missed opportunities or regret how turbulent their relationship had once been. A year ago, his greatest wish would have been for Finn to lean forward and steal a kiss, but now…now there was a peaceful acceptance and a mutual acknowledgment of the _rightness_ of their relationship. Everything they had been through together, the bad and the good, had led them to this.

He and Finn would never be lovers and that was just fine; now they were brothers, and that was _better_.

And suddenly everything changed. It was no longer about a broken wrist or cheating significant others. It wasn't about Sam or Rachel or Beth. It wasn't about his dead mother or Finn's dead father. It wasn't about what was once said forever ago in a basement, or things that hadn't been said or done before he transferred to Dalton.

It was about _now_ and everything they meant to each other. Kurt knew he would gladly die for Finn, and for the first time he believed that Finn would do the same for him.

" _What I feel has come and gone before_ ," Kurt sang, smiling. " _No need to talk it out_ ," he continued, shaking his head, " _we know what it's all about_."

Finn nodded. They knew. They knew that it was all about them, and not for selfish reasons. They had never said the words aloud – there were so many things they had left unsaid, both good and bad – but now they realized that perhaps things had remained unsaid because they simply lacked the vocabulary to express them. They often told each other that they loved the other, and while they had meant it, the emotion behind the words, the emotion the words themselves engendered, had, for whatever reason, always been dampened. Perhaps it had been fear, fear of loss or rejection or transience, but that had all evaporated.

Kurt released Finn's hand and gently rose to his feet, circling around the bed and pulling the sheets and comforter over Finn's supine form.

" _Hanging around_ …"

" _Hanging around_ ," Finn quietly repeated, his voice creaking at the end with a yawn.

" _Nothing to do but frown_ ," Kurt sang, bending over and placing a soft kiss on Finn's temple. " _Rainy days and Mondays…_ " He placed Kurty Bear in the crook of Finn's neck.

"… _always get…_ " they harmonized.

" _Me down_." Kurt held the final note for quite some time, just grazing the bottom limit of his register, yet delivering some remarkable vocal gymnastics. He could never resist the opportunity to show what he could do.

Both of them had missed their parents standing in the doorway, Carole mouthing the lyrics as tears slipped down Burt's face. They disappeared down the stairs before they could be discovered.

Once certain Finn was asleep, Kurt withdrew a Sharpie from his pocket and gave Finn a unibrow.

It was just what brothers did.


	4. Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

After his conversation with Quinn, Kurt again crossed the hall to check on how Finn was doing.

Predictably, his brother was faring just fine, splayed across his bed, one arm thrown up over his face, the other clutching tightly to Kurty Bear, and snoring softly.

Against his will, Kurt smiled. He really did love his brother. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Finn. His earlier words were true: he had always wanted a brother, and he was very glad he had ended up with the one he had.

Still, as the wedding had approached, Kurt had been filled with doubts. Could he and Finn learn to love each other as brothers with all the baggage that laid between them?

Somehow, miraculously, they had. All of the doubts and misgivings both had experienced had evaporated the moment their parents had exchanged vows.

The transition had been easier than Kurt had expected, but a large part of that was probably due to the fact that he was at Dalton for most of the week. His time home was therefore limited and regimentally structured so that he could attend his various duties prior to leaving for the school on Sunday night. As they weren't constantly tripping over each other and competing for bathrooms and the like, most of the time Kurt spent with Finn was nice and pleasant, catching each other up on the week's events.

Faster than that for which Kurt could have ever planned, Finn had become an essential component in his life. He missed his brother during the week, and his weekends were usually filled with equal parts homework, Dad time, Cooking with Carole, catching up with the other Glee kids, answering Blaine's vague but persistent texts, and hanging out with Sam and Santana. His time was Finn was finite, and therefore they each strived to be on their best behavior when they finally sought each other out.

As Kurt exited his brother's room, he frowned deeply in thought.

At first, he paused in said thoughts to marvel at the irony that _Finn Hudson_ was making him _think_.

Oh, not that Finn was stupid or anything, far from it. Finn might not have had the book smarts of Kurt himself, or the street smarts of Puck and Santana, but, damnably, he possessed some measure of emotional intelligence that was far beyond his years.

Finn often downplayed his abilities, but that was usually in a cunning bid to avoid notice. The last thing he wanted was for people to catch on to the fact that he wasn't quite as dumb as he appeared or as people expected of him. He was sneaky, he was ambitious, and he had a thirst to prove himself.

Finn Hudson was a Slytherin, no question, but one of the lesser-known ones, like Blaise Zabini or Daphne Greengrass, content to linger in the background and pull strings so subtly that most people were aware said strings were being pulled at all. The very idea that Finn could even do _subtle_ was terrifying.

Kurt grunted and slowly descended the stairs.

He had been on the receiving end of Finn's manipulations in the past. Said machinations had been, at the time, clumsy and rather obvious: overdone puppy eyes; exaggerated pouts; tentative touches on the shoulder; flex of a biceps.

Back then, Finn had used his physical beauty to manipulate him, but now that they were brothers, now that he was sure Kurt was no longer attracted to him - although, scarily enough, Kurt was reaching the conclusion that Finn was _disappointed_ his lust was well and truly gone - Finn had resorted to the emotional manipulation he used with others.

Kurt didn't know what to think about that, really. Should he be frustrated or flattered? He supposed he should thank his parents for imbuing him with the intelligence necessary to see through Finn's rather poor schemes. He wasn't sure what it said about Rachel that she succumbed to them more often than not. Either it meant she was dumber than Kurt believed, which he didn't think was true, or she was placating Finn to lull him into a false sense of security in order to facilitate her own manipulations, which was much more likely.

If the latter was indeed true, he could almost respect her.

Of course, there was still her wardrobe to consider.

He shuddered.

He gloomily trudged down the stairs, crossing into the living room and curling up into one of the overstuffed chairs he proclaimed tacky but secretly loved. Laying his head on his knees, he sighed.

Stupid Finn, making him _think_.

 _You're not happy. I like when you're happy. You're only happy when you're with them_.

It was true, Kurt knew. Any fleeting moments of happiness, _true_ happiness, he'd experienced over the past several months had been in the company of Sam and Santana. Not at Dalton, not with the Warblers, certainly not with Blaine, and not even with his friends in New Directions.

Dalton was...Dalton. He enjoyed the curriculum, the challenge it presented and the opportunity it afforded, but he couldn't say it made him _happy_. He enjoyed learning, but it wasn't a burning passion for him.

The Warblers...were not New Directions. He didn't fit in well there, although he had to admit he hadn't really made that much of an effort. After Blaine had told him that he should try harder to fit in, Kurt had rebelled by not trying to fit in at all. He had just become quiet and present, inadvertently drawing even more attention to himself by not trying to impress anyone. Of course, he didn't feel the need to impress his fellow Warblers. For the first time in his life, Kurt was truly uncaring about what a particular group of people thought of him.

Blaine was nothing more than a gay Finn, someone on whom he had fixated but who had no more interest in him than Finn ever had. He and Blaine were friends, but theirs was a unilateral friendship. Everything was fine as long as Kurt allowed Blaine to make all the decisions; yes, as long as Kurt went along with everything Blaine said, it was fine. It was a lot like his friendship with Mercedes, actually.

Blaine was a curious amalgamation of Rachel, Finn, and Mercedes, which partially explained why Kurt had been drawn to him in the first place, because he understood Blaine, he knew what to expect of the other boy and knew how to behave to keep things nice and easy.

Still, Kurt was reaching the point in his life where compromising himself for the sake of not being lonely was the most lonely thing of all. If he couldn't stand his own company, why would he expect other people to enjoy it? It was time to make some hard decisions.

There now existed between himself and New Directions a greater divide than ever before. He was no longer part of them; the private jokes and shorthand slang had changed since his departure, and he was at a loss. He had learned early on not to question it, because it inevitably reminded everyone that he had chosen to leave. There was lingering resentment about that, mostly from Rachel, Mercedes, Artie, and Tina - the other original members of the club. Kurt could understand that to a point - they had all been bullied, but none of them had run. Of course, none of them had been the recipient of death threats and unwanted sexual advances, either.

Oddly, he had developed a tentative friendship of sorts with Noah, which Kurt thought was primarily based in regret on Noah's part. He believed that Noah had finally come to understand just how badly the bullying had affected him and was sincerely contrite that he had ever played a part in it. They weren't close by any stretch of the imagination, but they could be in the same room and even hold light conversations without resorting to sniping at each other. It was nice. Strange, but nice.

Kurt did wonder, however, if Santana had ordered Noah to behave. Similarly, Sam might have exerted some influence on Noah, as the two were friends now, each of them closer to the other then either had ever been to Finn. He supposed he would never know, as he would never ask, but then perhaps he didn't _really_ need to know; it was better just to enjoy the peace.

He didn't know Lauren, Mike was as much of an enigma as ever, and Finn usually stuck close to his brother's side whenever they all got together, just in case he was needed. Brittany, as always, loved him regardless of whatever anyone thought, said, or did. Quinn...well, a lot of what Finn had said to him earlier had made sense, and while he had reached out to her to advise her of Finn's condition, he had to admit that he had been rather short and chilly with her.

He sighed again. It wasn't really his place to forgive Quinn _or_ Finn for how they had treated Sam. Indeed, it appeared as though Sam himself had moved beyond it, and he certainly didn't need Kurt to hold his grudges for him.

Also, he truly liked Quinn. They were very alike in personality, with similar senses of humor and outlooks on social issues. He missed her, he did, but felt as though renewing his friendship with her was somehow a betrayal of Sam. He supposed he'd have to think on it some more, but a definitive decision was needed.

That just left Sam and Santana, who, as Finn had said, made him _happy_. _He_ made them happy, just by being himself.

Sure, he was happy with his family, but that was a different kind of happiness.

There was a freedom with Sam and Santana which he had never before experienced, and it made everything else pale in comparison. He never felt the need to censor or hide those parts of himself which he knew grated on others; they accepted him for who he was and encouraged him to embrace all of his facets. He didn't need to dumb himself down or limit himself to fit in better with their company. He never felt the need to put on another face to placate them. He could talk to them about anything and knew they would listen; even if they didn't necessarily understand, they would _listen_ , and that made all the difference.

He felt appreciated by them.

He felt...loved.

And he loved them in return.

He hummed noncommittally.

The real question, he supposed, was how deeply that love ran. He adored them for who they were, for their personalities and quirks, and for the way they made him feel.

It was impossible for him to extricate them from each other in his mind; when he thought of one, he immediately thought of the other. They were united, the three of them, by a bond which he wasn't sure he understood, but neither did he wish to test its limits and expose any potential weaknesses. Perhaps because there were none to consider. They were stronger together than apart, or as duos.

As cliché and obnoxious as it sounded, they completed one another.

Sam's gentleness softened the harsh edges of Kurt's sarcasm and Santana's vitriol, his loyalty easing their self-doubt and feelings of unworthiness. Santana's confidence, which, unlike Kurt's own, was mostly genuine and not feigned, made them stronger in the face of adversity, allowing them to believe that it was _okay_ if you had no fucks to give, that you didn't have to please everyone all of the time, and that it was just fine to try and please yourself.

Kurt wasn't sure what he gave them, if anything. They probably would've disagreed, of course, viewing those habits he had long ago deemed flaws as strengths. But how to know for sure?

He supposed he could ask them. They would tell him the truth.

He just wasn't sure he wanted the truth, because what if it wasn't what he wanted to hear? What if he was completely wrong about the situation?

He shivered.

Brr. Scary.

And then...then there was the sex stuff.

He couldn't even pretend that he didn't find Sam sexy. Sam was so damn sexy it was almost painful.

That face. That _body_.

Unf.

Kurt winced.

Sam made him feel things he honestly never expected to feel. He had never considered himself a very sexual person. For years, he had believed something was wrong with him, that he had some kind of delayed development or psychological pathology. For a long time, he thought that he was asexual, which was a perfectly legitimate and acceptable orientation, with homosexual leanings. He'd never been that interested in masturbation - not because he considered shameful, but because he'd never seen the point of it.

Seeing Sam in the shower, however, seeing Sam in various stages of undress, seeing Sam _smile_ at him, well, those things inspired all kinds of thoughts. Nice and welcome ones.

They also inspired vulnerability. After the rebuffs of Finn and Blaine, Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to put himself out there again in a way which might lead to a thorough, if polite, rejection. He didn't believe he could handle losing Sam as a friend.

But, damn, Sam Evans was beautiful.

Kurt released a plaintive whine.

Santana was a surprise.

Never - not _ever_ \- had Kurt felt any physical response to a woman. Yes, he had made out with Brittany, and it had been lovely - soft and warm and very pleasant - but it hadn't been arousing. He'd kissed Tina and Quinn - two of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen - yet he'd never felt the need or want to press further, to see if he might experience a physical sensation. He loved Mercedes dearly and appreciated her beauty and amazing curves, but he'd never desired her in that way.

The idea of sex with Santana, however, was not off-putting, and that scared him.

He'd never questioned that he was gay, even if he'd never much considered sex. He'd known he was gay since before he knew the term to describe his orientation. He liked boys, the end. He'd never had an inkling that might alter, might expand or contract depending on the person, and certainly not for a woman.

And Santana was very much a woman, despite the claims of her defeated and thoroughly oppressed enemies. She wasn't butch or manly; she was strong, and she didn't apologize for it. She had convictions and didn't care whether or not anyone agreed with them. She believed in herself and didn't require anyone else to believe in her. Her confidence was real and earned, forged in the heat of prejudice and misogyny, and anyone who couldn't understand that, who didn't appreciate it, was truly unworthy of her acknowledgment.

Santana's sexiness wasn't predicated on her physical appearance, although there was much to appreciate about said appearance. Her confidence, her intelligence, her courage, her wit, and, yes, even her evilness, were sexy - to the point of intoxication. Never before had Kurt been so attracted to a _personality_.

Santana was sexy by virtue of being herself, and that was a revelation for Kurt.

He'd never really felt sexy. No one had ever made him feel as though he was, and certainly no one had ever told him he was. Indeed, Blaine had made it quite clear that he was not.

Kurt knew he was attractive, but he wasn't conventionally handsome. He considered himself an intellectual, but had too much common sense and grounding in the real world to fit in well with his more erudite contemporaries. He was athletic, but apathetic about team sports. He was competitive, but mostly with himself.

He was pretty much a loner and always had been. He'd been lucky enough to get through life with one or two close friends, but even from them he had kept himself largely removed.

But it wasn't like that anymore.

Santana kissed him all the time: on the cheek, on the lips, on the neck. She groped him wherever and whenever she desired. She didn't care, and never once had Kurt attempted to dissuade her. He enjoyed her attentions. She had never asked permission, but neither had she been forceful. She just expected that he would like it, and he had. He knew it wasn't for shock value; Santana could've cared less what people thought about her. She flirted with him because she wanted to. She touched him because she liked it.

It was a dizzying feeling, being wanted in such a way, and the fact that Santana was female had really never entered into the equation. Kurt wasn't sure what that meant. Was he still gay? Was he bisexual? Was he pansexual?

He had spent so much of his life living according to the strict rules he had set for himself, and then along came Santana, who challenged every single one of them in a very quiet way. It was unsettling, but not unwelcome.

He supposed he was still gay. He didn't know if he believed in the _one exception_ rule, but it was true that no other woman had inspired within him the thoughts and feelings Santana did. That had to mean something, and he was pretty sure it meant something _good._

He blinked.

Santana made him feel _good_. About her, about himself, about whatever relationship they had.

That couldn't be bad, couldn't be wrong, even if it wasn't the norm.

And Sam.

Well, if he was being honest with himself, he'd been in love with Sam for quite a long time now; he just hadn't allowed himself to ponder it too deeply, not wanting a repeat of his experience with Finn. In truth, he'd fallen for Sam the moment the boy had first entered the choir room all those months ago, but he'd desperately tried to fight it.

But Sam had wanted to sing with him.

Sam had stood up for him against Karofsky.

Sam had sworn to protect him, and had meant it.

Sam had regularly visited him at Dalton, the first person from McKinley to do so, despite the fact that they hadn't known each other well.

Sam had told him Blaine was a pussy unworthy of his notice.

Sam wasn't afraid of physical affection. He hugged Kurt all the time, hugs which lasted just a bit beyond what was considered appropriate, lingering caresses which were like kisses all on their own. Longing gazes that perhaps Kurt had misinterpreted as merely friendship.

Could Sam possibly like him? Like him in that way?

His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest at just the thought.

Sam's face. His _lips_. His body. His smile.

Sam's _everything_.

Sam _..._ was _everything_.

And so was Santana.

"Oh, my god."

That was when Kurt suddenly realized that his parents were sitting on the couch opposite him and staring quite avidly in his direction.

"I'm in love with Sam," he blurted.

He rolled his eyes at Carole's snort; clearly, this was not new information to her.

His father looked momentarily panicked, but also unsurprised. Besides, he knew and genuinely liked Sam.

Burt and Carole looked at each other, so smug in their perceived triumph that Kurt felt it necessary to pop their balloons.

"I think I'm in love with Santana, too."

Carole blinked harshly - several times, in fact - her mouth opening and closing repeatedly, though no sound emerged.

Kurt found that leaving the woman speechless was quite satisfying, but not as much as watching his father faint.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana didn't even bother ringing the bell. She just stormed inside, hands on her hips, and looked around for a target, glaring when one didn't immediately present itself.

"Well, Tink," she barked, "we're here. What the fuck is so important?"

In lieu of a verbal response, Kurt grabbed her waist, spun her around, and threw her against the nearest wall, pressing a scorching kiss to her lips. She was so shocked, she at first did nothing, but quickly rallied and returned the kiss with a ferocity which almost stole his breath.

When he finally pulled away, she stared at him in satisfaction and confusion. "What?" she murmured.

"I'm in love with you," Kurt said frankly.

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I love you."

Her eyes searched his for he didn't know how long. Time seemed to stand still as she examined him. She must have found whatever it was she was looking for, however, and a slow blush spread across her cheeks as she averted her eyes - _demurely_.

"I love you, too," she whispered, a soft smile on her face.

Sam was staring at them, jaws agape, not knowing what the hell to say, but knowing better than to interrupt. He was about to make a discreet exit and go nurse his broken heart in some nice gutter somewhere, when Kurt abruptly turned around to face him.

"And you," Kurt hissed, eyes narrowing.

Sam's own eyes widened.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Sam's mouth fell open. "W-What?"

"Sam," Kurt said slowly, all but purring the name, his tone quiet yet forceful, "I need you to tell me right now if you're not interested in me, because I am _very_ interested in you, and unless you run away now, I'm going to jump you."

"I love you!" Sam babbled.

"Good."

And, with that, Kurt literally pounced on Sam, wrapping his long, lean legs around Sam's waist and locking his arms around the boy's neck. A quick kiss, hard and unyielding.

"I've wanted you from the first time I saw you," Kurt whispered.

"I love you," Sam repeated, eyes glazing over.

Another kiss.

"Please be sure, Sam," Kurt begged, "because if I can't be this close to you all the time, I won't be able to bear being near you at all."

"Kiss me again," Sam commanded.

So Kurt did. A long, drawn-out kiss which saw several things: first, Sam was more than strong enough to bear Kurt's weight; second, Sam really liked his hair being pulled; third, Kurt was incapable of _not_ touching every part of Sam on which he could gain purchase; fourth, watching the two of them go at it got Santana wetter than anything ever had in her life.

"Your skin is so soft," Kurt marveled, mumbling into Sam's neck. "I've wanted to touch you so badly, and for so very long."

"Don't ever stop touching me," Sam pleaded.

"I want to do obscene things to you, Sam."

Sam stilled and raised very wide eyes to meet Kurt's own. "You can do anything you want to me."

Kurt shivered, opening his mouth.

"Please say it," Sam begged, "but only if you mean it."

"I love you, Sam. I love you so much."

Santana squeaked as they pulled her between them, Kurt and then Sam each kissing her before again kissing each other.

There were no words, no agreements, no plans.

It was just the three of them, and they knew it would be for the foreseeable future.

Burt and Carole stood watching from the kitchen, both worried, both uncomfortable, but both happy for their son. Kurt deserved love, and if he found it with two people, well, then, it was twice as special, wasn't it? They might not have understood it, but they wouldn't stand in the way of it.

Finn lingered at the foot of the stairs, peering at the scene and wondering if he was still high. If he was, he didn't know why he was hallucinating a threesome between his brother and his brother's two best friends. Well, not a threesome per se, just kissing. Really intense kissing.

Finn hadn't seen face-eating like that since _The Silence of the Lambs_.

But Kurt looked so happy, and that was really all that mattered.

Sam and Santana looked happy, too, which was good, because Finn would've hated to have to kill them. As long as they treated Kurt well, everything would be fine, and he'd, like, totally support them and stuff.

And maybe sneak a peek every now and then.

Threesomes were hot, no matter who was involved.


	5. Summit

Sam and Santana ended up spending the night at Kurt's house. Burt, uncharacteristically, had no objections, or at least very few after Carole took him aside and made clear her position on the matter.

"He's happy," she whispered. "Please don't take that away from him."

Burt was offended. "His happiness is all that's ever mattered to me, Carole, but I don't like the idea..."

She gave him the side-eye. "Do you really think Kurt is ready to have sex?" she interrupted. "I don't, nor do I think he would have so little respect for you or me as to do it in this house right under our noses. I also don't think that Kurt would have so little respect for _himself_ as to jump into bed with two people with whom he's barely begun a relationship."

That took most of the wind out of Burt's sails. If she hadn't made that third point, he probably would have been able to argue with her, but her reinforcing the fact that Kurt indeed _had_ self-worth made it clear that, had he challenged it, it only would have ended badly.

"Both Sam and Santana have slept over plenty of times and you've never had an issue with it," she added. "It's obvious that their feelings for Kurt and his for them existed long before tonight. They're going to have enough problems with this situation. I won't create more for them. I won't have Kurt embarrassed or ashamed, let alone made to feel uncomfortable in his own home." She arched a brow. "Remember the last time that happened?"

Burt sighed. "I know," he muttered. "I just worry."

"I do, too, honey, but when has Kurt ever given us reason to doubt him? He's a smart, capable, and _responsible_ boy. Punishing him needlessly will only cause him to turn away from us and, right now, he needs them. He needs to know that they love him."

Burt shook his head. "I was prepared for Sam. I was even looking forward to it, knowing that Kurt would have a guy who loved him and would take care of him. But Santana..."

"I know," Carole said. "Believe me, I know. I almost fainted right alongside you when Kurt announced his feelings for her, but that's why I want her and Sam to stay, so they can discuss this and work through some things. If we're having trouble understanding how this came about, you can imagine what Kurt's going through. His entire identity has just shifted on a fundamental level."

"You're both missing the point," Finn interrupted, emerging from the hallway.

Carole startled and then frowned. "Finn, don't spy."

"Sorry."

"What do you mean, son?" Burt asked.

Finn ambled over and took a seat at the kitchen table. "You guys aren't giving Kurt enough credit. I learned the hard way never to do that. Kurt thinks a lot. Like, all the time. You really believe this all came to him just tonight?" He shook his head. "Kurt's been thinking about this in the back of his mind for months. Heck, ever since Sam rolled into town. This has been building for a long time. It was obvious to anyone who really knows them." He rolled his eyes. "Well, except for them. That's why I pushed Kurt into _really_ thinking about it tonight." He shrugged. "He was ready."

Carole and Burt stared at him.

"Huh?" asked a blank Carole.

Finn grinned. "Kurt and Sam...it was, like, immediate, you know? I saw it as soon as they first saw each other." He blushed, looked down, and scratched the back of his neck. "That's why I interfered, because I knew what was going to happen. I knew Sam would take Kurt away from me."

"Away from you," Burt slowly repeated.

Carole glared at her son. "Are you telling me that you put Kurt through all of that - said horrible, hurtful things to him, made him feel as though he were a predator who was stalking both Sam _and_ you, and manipulated Burt into siding with you - because you were _jealous_?"

Finn gave a bleak nod. "Yeah," he whispered. "The really awful thing is that I think Kurt knew what I was doing and went along with it because he believed he didn't deserve any better."

Tears of rage and helplessness began brimming in Burt's eyes.

"How could you do that to him?" Carole harshly demanded.

"Because I love him," Finn said softly. He shook his head. "You don't know how much I love him, or for how long." He sighed, deciding it was best to put all his cards on the table. He owed Kurt that much. "And I was scared, I was so scared, because I didn't know what that love meant. I knew how he felt about me, and I was scared that..." he drew in a sharp breath, "that I might have been gay, because all I wanted was to be with Kurt."

Burt blinked owlishly.

Carole was completely gob-smacked.

"I'm not gay," Finn said, "but I wondered if I might be, because I didn't understand how I could love someone so much but not be in love with them." He sighed. "And maybe, just maybe, parts of me _were_ in love with parts of Kurt."

He put his head in his hands. "I'm not into dudes, it's not my thing, but I'd never felt for any guy what I felt for Kurt, what I still feel for him, and I got really, really confused. It hurt so bad, not understanding what was happening to me, and I took it all out on him."

He raised his head and Burt and Carole were shocked at the tears streaking down his face.

"Kurt was the first person, other than Mom, to be all about me," Finn explained, scrubbing his face with a hand. "He cared about _me_ , he loved _me_ , just Finn. Not the quarterback or the lead singer or popular guy or whatever. He looked at me and saw _me_. And he loved me. He wanted me." He shook his head. "No one ever had before. Not Quinn then, and never Puck. Not even Rachel."

He sighed. "And it made me wonder. It made me wonder if I was gay, and that scared me, because I didn't want to be treated like Kurt was treated." He lowered his eyes. "Like I had treated him. And I was angry at him for making me feel that way, for making me wonder about stuff I had never thought of before."

Carole was absolutely furious, all but vibrating with rage, but Burt understood. He knew what it was to be confronted with someone like Kurt, who challenged all of your preconceptions and beliefs and then dared you to look negatively at a gay person the way you had previously.

"He didn't make me feel stupid," Finn quietly continued, "and I know I'm not smart." He held up a hand. "It's true, Mom. I'm not a smart guy. I'm never going to be the dude who gets awesome grades or always understands the punch-line of a joke, and that's okay. I've accepted that. But Kurt has never made me feel dumb. He's never made me feel...inferior. Quinn used to. Puck always did. Rachel usually did. But not Kurt. He didn't treat me differently, like other people did, like I needed every little thing explained to me, or that I was illiterate or something. I'm smart about certain things, but not most things."

Carole bit her lip as she fought back tears. Her son was not a genius, true, but he was far more intelligent than he believed himself to be. Other than her, the only one who had ever evinced that belief in him was Kurt.

Finn leaned back in his chair. "I was mad at Kurt for making me feel things. I was mad at myself for _wanting_ to feel them. And I was mad that I didn't feel them."

Burt's brow furrowed. "You were mad that you couldn't return Kurt's feelings?"

Finn nodded. "Because I knew that, if I were gay, Kurt would be the perfect dude for me. He gets me like no one else ever has. He wants to protect me and take care of me and help me, and that felt _so nice_ , because I was the one always protecting Quinn or Puck or Rachel or the football team or _whatever_. Kurt never put expectations on me. He just loved me."

He stared down at his lap. "So I had all this love for him, but I didn't know what to do with it, mostly because I didn't understand it. Kurt loved me in a gay way, and I loved Kurt, but not in a gay way. I didn't know how to love him, so I hurt him instead, hoping that I would stop loving him."

Burt winced. "Jesus, Finn."

"I know," Finn whispered sadly. "I don't know why I hurt him so much, except that it was a way to keep him near me, to make sure I could talk to him and be around him, because even though I thought I wanted to stop loving him, that wasn't really true. I can't imagine my life without Kurt in it."

Carole gave up trying to formulate any kind of response. She didn't know what she could say that wouldn't sound ignorant or hurtful. She had never expected Finn had such strong emotions for Kurt, and it pained her that she had never really bothered to find out. She had never talked with her son about his treatment of Kurt other than to scold him. She should have tried to discern what had motivated that treatment. She felt like a complete failure as a mother.

Finn sighed once more. "But then Sam came, and I looked at him and knew that he could love Kurt the way I couldn't, the way that Kurt needed. And if he had that from Sam, why would he still want me around?" He shook his head. "I know it's awful, I know I'm a total asshole, but I was just so confused. Everyone always told me that I should either be nicer to Kurt or get him out of my life, but no one told that to Sam. Everyone likes Sam."

He drew in a shuddering breath. "And then Kurt left, and it hurt _so bad_ , and everyone blamed me for not helping him." He swallowed painfully. "And they were right, because I didn't help him. I was so worried about me that I didn't even know what was happening to him."

Burt tilted his head. "What do you mean? What happened to him?"

Finn growled. "Karofsky."

"But that's all settled..."

Finn frantically shook his head. "You don't know what he did. It was more than just the threats. He stalked Kurt. He...he put his _hands_ on Kurt. He _touched_ him. Made Kurt _kiss_ him."

All color bled from Carole's face. "What?" she asked in a shaky voice.

Burt sat there, stupefied.

"He didn't tell anyone," Finn said, "because he didn't think anyone would believe him, not even Burt, because whenever something happens with Kurt and some guy, Burt never takes Kurt's side."

"That's a load of shit!" Burt thundered.

"You sided with me about Sam over Kurt," Finn reminded him.

Burt abruptly felt silent.

"I may have manipulated the situation," Finn admitted, "but not how you responded to it, Burt, so that's why Kurt never said anything. He didn't think anyone would back him up, and no one did, except for Sam." He bit his lip. "And I guess he didn't want to out someone, but I don't really understand why. Karofsky deserved it after all the shit he put Kurt through, and then Blaine just made it so much worse."

"How do you even know all of this?" Carole demanded.

Finn flushed. "From listening in on Kurt talking to Sam and Santana."

"Finn!" she hissed.

Finn sighed. "I know, I know, but I needed to understand what was going on, and I knew Kurt would never tell me. I didn't blame him, but I knew there was more to it than what he had said. And once I found out, I realized all of the horrible stuff I'd said and done to him, and I was so ashamed, because Kurt had never done anything but love me and be a good friend." He shook his head. "I was never that for him."

"And Blaine?" Burt asked, struggling to maintain his composure.

Finn soured. "That guy's a creep. The only reason I never talked to Kurt about him was because I thought he and Kurt were dating and that Kurt was happy. I didn't want to come between them, especially because I knew that, whatever I said, Kurt wouldn't listen to me." He snorted. "Not that I blame him."

"How is Blaine a creep?" Carole asked.

"It's the way he talks to Kurt," Finn said. "It's like how people talk to me, like I'm a child or something. Blaine acts like he has all the answers and only he can...guide Kurt, like there's no other gay guys in the world or something. He talks down to Kurt. He makes Kurt feel bad about himself. He was the one who told Kurt to confront Karofsky, and that's when Karofsky kissed him. So Kurt's all upset and feeling _violated_ , and Blaine tells him that he should feel _sorry_ for Karofsky and understand where he's coming from."

Burt and Carole stared at him. "What," they both intoned.

Finn nodded. "And then everything blew up and Sylvester was the only one to side with Kurt. We all made him feel like a traitor for leaving, and Mercedes and Artie and Tina all told him that they were bullied just as badly and he had to learn to be stronger or whatever, but Kurt never defended himself. He never corrected them." His breath hitched. "And you know what the worst part was? They never asked. They just assumed they knew everything. I think Rachel really tried, and she knew more than they did, but not everything."

Burt rubbed his face with a hand. "Jesus fucking Christ. Where the hell was I? What have I been doing? My kid could have been fucking _raped_ , and I had no _fucking_ clue what was going on his life!"

"He didn't want you to know," Finn said, "and he was worried that you'd have another heart attack."

"Oh, god," Burt moaned.

"But he had Sam and Santana," Finn continued. "I don't know how, but Santana somehow managed to put all the pieces together. I don't know what she did but, after Kurt left, she got Karofsky under control. I don't know if she's blackmailing him or if she threatened him, but he's terrified of her." He snorted. "Hell, everyone's terrified of her. She's the defender, and Sam's the, um, what's the word?" He paused as his eyes restlessly scanned about the room. "Nurturer? Is that right?"

Carole nodded.

"Sam takes care of Kurt, and Santana takes care of everything else," Finn said.

Oddly enough, both Burt and Carole could see and understand that.

"And Kurt does both for the both of them," Finn continued. "When, uh..." he looked away from his mother "...when Quinn and I did...what we did to Sam, I've never seen Kurt so mad." He shook his head. "He always protects his friends, way more than he ever protects himself, and he was so angry at us for hurting Sam. For the first time, I wasn't jealous, because I knew what we had done was wrong, and Sam was, like, totally innocent. He's a really good guy who's never hurt anyone, and Quinn and me did to him what Quinn and Puck did to me last year, so I really should have known better. Both of us should have."

Carole grimaced. She didn't even bother replying, because she was quite sure Kurt had already said his piece on the issue, and had probably done so in a far more eloquent and cutting manner than she ever could.

Burt stared at Finn for a very long time. "Did you bust up Quinn and Sam partly to get Sam with Kurt?"

Finn cringed and flushed horribly. "Please don't tell Kurt that, but, yeah, kind of, because I knew that Sam wanted Kurt all along, and Kurt wanted Sam, and if I hadn't gotten in the way of that, they might have been together all this time and Kurt would never have left McKinley."

"That's very...convoluted thinking, Finn," Carole said, sighing. "Did Quinn know about this?"

In a way, Carole was almost hoping this was the case. She hadn't cared much for Quinn the first time the girl had dated Finn, and had very little patience with her this time around. However, if Quinn had actively been trying to help Sam and Kurt find their way to each other, even though it was a in a rather cruel and selfish manner, it proved that perhaps Quinn wasn't as worthless as she had believed.

"I don't really know," Finn said, shrugging. "We didn't talk about it, but it wouldn't surprise me. Quinn likes Kurt a lot. I mean, _a lot_ , which is weird, because she doesn't really like anybody. Kurt was one of the few kids who supported her during the whole Beth thing, and I think Quinn grew even closer to him than she did to Mercedes. After the thing with Sam, Kurt cut Quinn out of his life pretty harshly, and she was devastated. I'm not exaggerating, either. She really was devastated."

Burt wondered how he had missed the fact that his son had been so close to Quinn Fabray. What else didn't he know? What else was Kurt keeping from him, worrying that his father might have another heart attack?

"And Santana?" he asked.

Finn shrugged. "I have no idea. She and I barely tolerate each other." He fell silent for a moment. "If I had to guess," he finally said, "I think it's because they're so much alike. They both protect other people. Santana's better than Kurt at protecting herself, but she's always protected Brittany, even trying to protect her from Santana herself. For the first time, Santana has someone who's strong enough to protect her."

"That...makes a lot of sense," Carole said quietly, patting Burt's knee.

Burt nodded fondly. He liked Santana a great deal, despite her viciousness, or perhaps because of it. She didn't take shit from anyone, including him, and including Kurt, which was what Kurt needed. Sam was strong, but often silent; he could take it, but wasn't always comfortable dishing it out. Kurt needed the balance Santana could provide him; he needed her to fight him.

"How do you think the other kids will react to this?" Burt asked.

Finn bit his lip. "I'm not sure. Mercedes will probably go nuts. Kurt being gay was one thing, because it meant she could never have him, but him dating Santana? That will send Mercedes over the edge."

"Maybe she needs that push," Carole suggested. "I like Mercedes a great deal, but she's very controlling and seems to think she has certain rights where Kurt is concerned."

Finn nodded, and even Burt agreed. He loved the girl, but she was extremely possessive.

"Brittany will be upset," Finn continued, "even though she's with Artie. She and Santana were together for a long time and, though she's never said it outright, I think she fell in love with Kurt when they were fake-dating. So now that Kurt and Santana are together, she'll probably feel hurt, and that will hurt both Kurt and Santana. They love her a lot."

Burt nodded. Brittany was a total sweetheart, and he knew that the idea of hurting her would tear Kurt apart.

"But she might also be the best one to understand," Finn continued, "especially with Sam in the picture. Brittany would get how you can be in love with two people. She was in love with Santana and Kurt, and even though she's now in love with Artie, I think she _still_ loves Santana and Kurt."

He sighed. "I don't really know about the others. Puck will probably be a dick about it and make all kinds of inappropriate comments." He cocked his head. "Or, he could end up being really cool about the whole thing. He and Kurt are kind of friends, and though Puck has never said it, I think he's attracted to Kurt.

"Not that he's bisexual or anything," he rushed to add, "but it's like how Kurt is with Santana. Kurt is strong and doesn't take Puck's shit. Puck likes that. He likes people who stand up to him, and I think what he likes about Kurt is the person that Kurt is. I think a lot of his bullying Kurt was about Kurt making him feel insecure. Puck really doesn't have any sexual hang-ups, though, so I don't see him being bothered by it, but he'll still give them shit just because he can."

Carole snorted. "That sounds like him."

"I don't know about Tina, Artie, Mike, or Rachel," Finn said. "Kurt will be upset if Tina doesn't support him, but he could care less about the others. He and Artie aren't that close anymore, and he barely knows Mike. He's never cared what Rachel thinks. Sam is only really close with Santana, now that Kurt's gone, and Santana does what she wants and doesn't care what anyone thinks of her."

Finn paused. "But all of this is assuming they decide to tell people. They might not. It's really no one's business, and Kurt wouldn't want to put Sam in a position where people could hurt him - not that Santana would allow him to be hurt." His eyes darkened. "And neither will I. Sam doesn't like me, and for good reason, but I'm totally on his side here."

"Because his side is Kurt's side?" Burt asked.

Finn blushed and nodded. "What'll be interesting is how Blaine reacts, and how Santana reacts to his reaction."

Burt smirked. He had never really cared for Blaine, who had always been too smooth and more than a little self-righteous.

Carole arched a brow. "We could sell tickets to that showdown."

Burt and Finn laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was going to be five chapters, but I've decided to expand it to seven in order to address the KuSS dynamic I've introduced - because Kurt/Sam/Santana is worth it.


	6. Trinity

Kurt didn't really understand how this had happened. How, in the space of an hour, he had found himself with a boyfriend _and_ a girlfriend.

Because it was so much more than that.

Sam Evans was his boyfriend.

_Sam Evans_.

_Boyfriend_.

Kurt Hummel had a boyfriend.

And a girlfriend. Couldn't forget the girlfriend.

_No one_ could forget Santana freaking Lopez.

"Mind. Blown," Kurt whispered, his head in Sam's lap, eyes dazed.

"Why?" Sam asked softly.

Kurt looked up into Sam's eyes and the reality suddenly hit him like an iceberg. "Because this doesn't happen to me. I stopped expecting..." He paused and his eyes filled. "I stopped _hoping_ a long time ago." He bit his lip. "I don't get what I want, what I _really_ want, and I've wanted you for so long now."

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. "I wish you had told me sooner. We wasted so much time."

"We didn't," Santana quietly interjected. "We needed to go through all of that, all of that bullshit, to get to here." She looked down, rubbing Kurt's feet which were placed delicately in her lap. "I _like_ here."

"Me too," her boys echoed.

Her boys.

Goddamn it, if they made her cry, she'd castrate them.

Sam carded his fingers through Kurt's hair, smiling gently as Kurt leaned up into the touch and purred with contentment. " _Soft kitty, warm kitty_..."

"Complete that lyric and I'll raise my head before slamming it back down onto your personals," Kurt warned.

Sam blanched and immediately fell silent.

Kurt snickered. "I would never do that, of course. I have plans to become very personal with your personals."

Sam swallowed heavily as...

"Oh, my," Kurt cooed, as Sam's anatomy responded to his promise. "You've an exceedingly large caliber. I presume it has its own theme song."

Santana burst out laughing.

Sam flushed horribly and averted his eyes.

"I'm scared, too," Kurt admitted. "Have you ever..."

"No," Sam said quietly. "Not with anyone."

"Me either."

"Only Brittany counted," Santana whispered.

"Are you very angry with me?" Kurt asked her.

"A little," she said after a long pause. "I didn't think...I never... _why?_ " she demanded. "I never allowed myself to hope you might love me back. I knew that it couldn't go anywhere. But now it has, and I'm scared it will stop." She stared off, though she continued to rub his feet. "I feel vulnerable. I don't like it. In fact, I fucking hate it."

Kurt nodded. "So do I. I just love you more."

Santana closed her eyes. "You know what really sucks? I believe you. I believe you when you say you love us, and it makes me _happy_. I didn't even believe Brittany, but I believe you. What does that say about me?"

"Maybe that you're ready to allow yourself to be loved?" Sam hesitantly suggested.

She grunted and said nothing more.

"I'm just as confused as you are, Santana," Kurt said. "I'm gay. I've always known that. I've never questioned it. Even when I realized that I was in love with you, I didn't question my sexuality until later."

She looked at him and raised a brow. "Did you find any answers?"

"Not really," he admitted. "I don't know what this is or how to explain it, and a part of me feels that we shouldn't _have_ to explain it."

She nodded and then sighed. "But we do."

"Yes, we do."

"Hi, I'm Sam, and I'm bisexual."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You should have told us that a long time ago."

"You shouldn't have dumped me as your duet partner," Sam snapped, "and maybe I would have."

Kurt blinked owlishly. "I hurt your feelings." His tone reflected his absolute astonishment at this revelation.

"You really did," Sam whispered.

"Sam, I am so sorry!" Kurt said earnestly, shaking his head. "I never even thought about that. I really am so very sorry. I have no excuse. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"No, you thought you were protecting me," Sam corrected. "Did it feel like the right thing to you? Because it didn't to me."

"Me either." He sighed. "Hi, I'm Kurt, and I have a martyr complex."

Sam rolled his eyes as Santana snickered darkly.

"To go along with your dueling superiority and inferiority complexes?" Sam asked archly.

Santana's laughter turned raucous.

Kurt flushed. "You don't know me," he said feebly, burying his head in Sam's stomach.

Sam just shook his head and continued stroking Kurt's hair.

"Sammy?" Kurt asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"We...are we...I mean, are you...my..."

"I'm your boyfriend, Kurt," Sam said softly. "I love you."

Kurt shuddered against him, and Sam felt the boy tense in his lap.

"I...I want..."

"What do you want?" Sam whispered.

Slowly, shyly, Kurt began lifting the hem of Sam's t-shirt. Before Sam could even posit a comment of encouragement, Kurt pressed a gentle kiss to his stomach. Sam's eyes fluttered before closing as he experienced the most erotic moment of his life.

Just that sensation, the brief touch of soft lips against his skin, was more powerful, more stunning, and more intimate than anything he had ever experienced with anyone. Even his kisses upstairs with Kurt and Santana paled in comparison.

"I'm so scared," Kurt mumbled, fingers curling around Sam's shirt as he clung to the other boy for dear life.

Sam startled when he felt a sudden wetness on his skin and, as he realized what it was, his eyes filled with pain. "Oh, baby, why are you crying?"

Alarmed, Santana raised Kurt's legs and scooted down the couch toward Sam, who opened an arm to embrace her. She grabbed Kurt's free hand in one of her own and interlaced their fingers.

His hands were so delicate, she marveled. Soft and silky, pale and perfect. His slender fingers were long and elegant, and she thought of the way they danced up and down the piano. She so envied his talent, the way he transposed the melodies he crafted in his mind to the instrument he loved.

Kurt created _art_ , and that suddenly seemed so important to her. She didn't even know why. She and Sam were the only ones who were aware Kurt wrote his own music. He had never played it for them, and she doubted he ever would, though she had caught snippets when he didn't know she was listening.

Kurt made something beautiful out of nothing but his own genius. That awed her.

He _awed_ her.

"Talk to us, Tink," she coaxed.

Kurt shook his head in misery. "This isn't my life. People whom I love aren't supposed to love me back."

"Hudson is an asshole!" she barked, eyes huge with rage.

"So is Pain," Sam hissed.

"It's not their fault," Kurt insisted. "They love me in their own ways, but I just...I had accepted that I would always be alone, that I wasn't...that what other people had wasn't meant for me."

"That's just not true," Santana said. "We're here, and we love you."

"And we're not going anywhere," Sam finished. He blinked as he realized what this was about. "Baby, Santana and I aren't going to take this back. You get that, don't you? This isn't some kind of fluke. It's not a dream or a prank or anything like that. We love you."

Santana closed her eyes and suppressed a sigh. Never had she expected this. She wasn't sure just what the hell she had expected, other than nothing, but now a whole new world had been opened up to her, and she was determined to fight for it. Kurt's resistance, even after he had been the one to start this ball rolling, was not surprising. What was, however, was his belief that he was _unworthy_ of love.

Because that was just a crock of shit.

Except...she understood his feelings, because they were also her own. She had been so horrible to Brittany, had treated her so badly, and now it was too late to rectify the situation. Brittany was happy with Artie, who, Santana had to admit, even if only inside her own head, treated her very well. That was really the only comfort the entire situation afforded her: Artie was a good guy. He'd never hurt Brittany, certainly not the way she herself had.

At the same time, however, she was in love with Kurt and Sam. She wanted to be with them. That love didn't negate her feelings for Brittany, but it tempered them. She supposed she would always love Brittany and regret the way things had ended between them, but she didn't want to bring that baggage into this new relationship. She didn't want Kurt or Sam to feel as though they were her second or third choices, because that truly wasn't the case.

"My name's Santana," she said quietly, "and I'm a lesbian who's in love with two boys."

Neither Kurt nor Sam said anything. They just held her and, for once in her life, she let herself be held. She was willing to let it be enough, and therefore it was.

"I'm not ready to have sex," Kurt blurted.

Sam raised a brow. "Okay," he said slowly.

Santana stared at Kurt. "Did you think we were going to rush you?" she asked evenly.

Kurt blushed. "More afraid that I'm going to rush myself, that I'll do something for which I'm not ready." His hands fluttered and he looked away. "I've never...it's not just that I've never had sex. It's that I've never really _thought_ about having it, either."

"I think you need to explain that, Tink," Santana said, not unkindly.

Kurt sighed. "When I thought myself in love with Finn, I never really thought about the two of us in an intimate way. Maybe I wondered what it would be like, what it would _feel_ like, if we kissed, but that was the extent of it. I'm not even sure that was about Finn himself. He just felt like a safe option at that time."

"Because you knew he wasn't gay and couldn't return your feelings?" Sam gently suggested.

Kurt ducked his head and stared down at the floor. Finally, after several moments, he nodded. He then sighed. "Blaine was pretty much that same way. I felt affection, but not really attraction." His brow furrowed with frustration. "It's not as though I don't understand sex. Well, the mechanics of it, at least." He rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I've researched the topic rather exhaustively." He rolled his neck. "It's just...I know that people think I'm overly emotional, but, in fact, it's just the opposite. There are many things I _don't_ feel, and I don't know if it's because I simply don't feel them, or if it's that I don't _allow_ myself to feel them." He paused. "Does that make sense?"

Santana snorted. "It does to me."

Sam nodded slowly. "I think I get it. Kurt, we're never going to pressure you. We're never going to do something that you don't want. We're not Karofsky."

Kurt shuddered and Santana scowled.

"But," Sam continued, "we need you to tell us what you _do_ feel, and what you want to do about those feelings. Sometimes, it's like we can read each other's minds, but that's not always the case. Each of us, well, we all keep things to ourselves most of the time, and while I'm closer to the two of you than I've been to anyone in my life, I still don't tell you everything."

Kurt and Santana both acknowledged the point with a nod.

"I'm not saying we can't have our secrets or whatever," Sam added, "but I just want us to communicate with each other, especially on the big stuff like sex. It's _okay_ that you're not ready." He shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not sure that I am either."

"Really?" Kurt asked, a tinge of wonder in his voice.

Sam nodded, smiling. "Really. It's a big step. I'm not saying that I haven't thought about sex, because I _definitely_ have, particularly about sex with the two of you, but sex isn't the reason I'm here now. It's not why I want to be with you and Santana. I want to be with you because I love you."

Kurt blushed again and cuddled more deeply against Sam, while Santana laid her head on his shoulder.

"It's so easy to take for granted," she whispered. "It's so easy to lie to yourself and say that it doesn't mean anything. But it does. I wish I had waited. I wish I had been more...discriminating." She exhaled. "I like sex. I love it, actually, and I'm good at it, but I've never made love with anyone. The closest was with Brittany, but I held back a lot even then." She fell quiet for several moments. "I'm not ready either," she finally said. "It's not that I don't want to, but I'm not ready yet, because with you two, it will mean something. It'll mean everything."

Sam nodded as Kurt grasped her hands tightly in his own.

"What is it you're most scared of, Kurt?" Sam asked.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "I'm not a demonstrative person, Sam. I understand sex, and I know that, eventually, I want to share that experience with you and Santana, but I don't know if I'll actually be good at it, if I'll be able to give you everything you need. Everything I _want_ to give you. It's hard enough just lying here in your lap. I have to force myself not to flinch or pull away. I'm not...I'm not used to being touched. No one has ever really wanted to touch me before, and most of the touches I've received from other boys have been violent."

Sam flushed with anger, pulling Kurt tight against him, as Santana swore creative litanies in Spanish. Kurt hesitated before finally clinging to Sam like he had wanted to do for so long.

"We won't let anyone hurt you again," Santana vowed.

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," Kurt mumbled, shaking his head. "I'm not weak."

"Okay, first of all, no one who has met you could ever accuse _you_ of being _weak_ ," she barked. "Second, it's not a matter of having to, Tink, but one of _wanting_ to. You take care of me and Hot Lips all the time!"

Sam nodded.

Kurt frowned. "How?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Oh, for Christ's sake, are you joking me right now? You always ask us how we're doing, not to make conversation, but because you actually want to know, because you truly _care_. You're able to read us better than our parents can. You know when we need to talk and when we don't, or when we just need a hug or need to be left alone.

"You defend us from other people, particularly Finn and Mercedes. You remember all of the special days in our lives, like the anniversary of my brother's death, or when it's Stacy's birthday or whatever. You give us gifts, little tokens that you know we'll like, not only because they're from you, but because you choose them because you know us so well. Sam can call you in the middle of the night because he had a bad dream, or I'll call because I ran out of tampons, and you listen and help him go back to sleep, or you run out to the store for me."

"That's who you are, Kurt," Sam said quietly. "You take care of us, and believe me when I tell you we're so damn grateful for it."

Santana nodded resolutely.

"But you do those things for me, as well," Kurt said, his voice confused.

"And that's the point," Santana said. "We take care of each other. We know each other so well, that we not only know our needs, we anticipate them." She sighed. "I get where you're coming from, Tink. I don't want to be a burden on anyone. I don't want anyone to feel responsible for me, and I sure as hell don't want anyone believing I'm weak." She looked deeply into his eyes. "But isn't nice having someone take care of you for once? You've spent your life looking after others. So have I. Why can't we let people look after us for a change? Why don't we deserve that?"

"You do!" he protested. At her searing gaze, he sighed. " _We_ do."

She smirked and nodded.

"What, um, what are we going to tell...people?" he softly asked.

Santana blinked and Sam narrowed his eyes.

"We're going to tell them that we're in love," he said firmly. "I'm going to tell everyone how damn lucky I am to be with the two most beautiful people in the world."

Kurt blushed and, shockingly, so did Santana.

"Kurt," Sam said softly, "I won't hide this. Even if I wanted to, and I _don't_ , I never could. I don't give a crap who knows. I don't care what they think or say. This, _us_ , isn't about them or their small minds."

"They'll target you," Kurt whispered, fear evident in his voice. "They'll hurt you, and it will be my fault."

" _No_ ," Santana thundered. "If that happens, it will be _their_ fault for being assholes, and I'll make sure they'll pay."

Sam's face looked patient, but his voice trembled slightly with anger. "Kurt, there is _nothing wrong_ with me for loving you. There is nothing wrong with Santana because she loves you. _You_ are _not_ wrong for loving us."

Santana blinked owlishly and turned to face Sam, only to be startled to find him gazing back at her.

"There was nothing wrong with you loving Brittany," he said, "and there's nothing wrong with the fact that you still love her."

Kurt and Santana stared at him, then at each other, and then at their own respective laps.

"I'm not self-loathing," Santana said. "It's important that you know that, especially because it's true." She sighed. "But when you grow up surrounded by people who think it's wrong...when you see people on television who tell you it's wrong...when you read your faith's sacred text, and it tells you that _you're_ wrong..." she trailed off, hanging her head. "It hurts. You don't necessarily believe it, because how can something that feels so wonderful, feels so true to _who you are_ possibly be wrong? But it hurts, and it makes you question things about yourself and the world around you."

Kurt nodded.

Sam nodded slowly and then looked at Kurt. "Is that why you're an atheist?"

"No," Kurt said firmly. "That was a decision I reached on my own." He stared off into space. "You know, it's always puzzled me why the faithful take such exception to atheists. Yes, some of us are militant, but I'm not. I've never begrudged my friends and family for believing. In many ways, I'm happy for them that they're able to believe."

He sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could. I'd like to enjoy the sense of community and fellowship that Mercedes and Quinn experience with their churches. I imagine it's very comforting. I know you believe, Sam, and I think that's wonderful. I've never taken issue with faith itself; my problem is with organized religion. Religion is judgmental and often cruel. Its very existence demands that people be separated according to what or in whom they believe. It creates a division between the faithful and the Other, and the Other scares people."

He was quiet for a moment. "My father believes. He believes in God and Jesus and heaven. He believes that he'll see my mother again, when his time comes." He shook his head. "I don't. It's not a question of me not _wanting_ to believe, but of the very simple fact that I don't. I never made a conscious choice to be an atheist. I just never believed."

"Because of your mom's death?" Santana gently asked.

He shook his head. "My parents were never dogmatic. They never attended church and never took me to services, yet they believed, and my father continues to believe. Carole does, and so does Finn. I don't know why I don't. It's just...not there within me.

"I don't believe in God," he said quietly, "but I would never deny someone else the right to do so. All I ask is that I'm given that same courtesy."

"It's doesn't bother me," Sam said, "and I would never try to force my faith onto you."

Kurt smiled and snuggled against him. "I know."

Sam looked at Santana, his hand kneading her shoulder. "What about you?"

"I don't really know," she murmured. "Questioning, I suppose."

She really didn't wish to discuss it further. Kurt and Sam recognized this and dropped the subject altogether.

"So, no sex," Sam said. "Hugs are okay?"

"Very okay," a happy Kurt agreed, burrowing against them.

Sam grinned. "And kisses?"

"Kisses are awesome," Santana said solemnly, nodding.

Sam beamed and leaned over to kiss her.

"That is so hot," Kurt whispered, before blushing.

Sam and Santana separated and leered down at him.

"Watching us kiss gets you hot, Tink?" she purred.

Kurt nodded, dazed. "You're both so beautiful."

Santana smiled as Sam blushed furiously.

"You are beautiful, you know," Kurt said to Sam. "I've always thought so, from the first moment I saw you." Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by the desire to explain himself. "It's not just because of your lips or your abs or your body. They're all wonderful, Sam, but only because they're parts of you. You're beautiful because of who you are, because of your kindness and how you treat people. You're beautiful because you're a good person."

Sam bit his lip and shyly ducked his head.

"Then how the hell am I beautiful, Tink?" Santana asked, a smirk on her face. "I'm not a good person."

"But you are," Kurt countered. "People too often confuse strength with prurience. You're _strong_ , Santana, and that's beautiful. You know who are and you don't apologize for it. The people who judge you don't really know you. You're honest, often to a fault. You see through the lies and machinations of others, and you don't hesitate to point them out. People think badly of you, Santana, because they think badly of themselves and know that you're able to see what they wish to hide."

Santana stared at him for several seconds, unable to comprehend fully what he was saying. She wasn't sure if she believed his words, but she knew that he _did_ , and that was all that mattered. She didn't know if she was the person he thought she was, but she sincerely hoped she might someday be that woman.

"I love you," she said.

He smiled. "I love you, too."

"I love both of you," Sam said.

They sat on Kurt's couch as basked for several minutes.

"People aren't to take this well," Kurt finally said.

"I really don't give a fuck," Santana said.

"Me either," Sam said, shrugging.

"They'll try to turn us against each other," Kurt warned.

"They'll fail," Santana said.

"We know the truth," Sam said. "We love each other, and the people who love us, truly love us, will be happy for us."

"And if they're not?" Kurt asked.

"Then they can fuck off," Santana said.

Sam nodded.

"Tomorrow, I'll be attending McKinley with Finn," Kurt said quietly.

Santana's eyes lighted with glee. "In that case..."

"...we have to make sure..." Sam continued.

"...to give everyone quite a show," Kurt finished, eyes gleaming.


	7. Plus One

Finn stumbled into the kitchen the next morning with bedhead so severe, Kurt paled and swooned on the spot. The pillow crease descending down Finn's entire face was red and looked rather painful.

"Were you licking the electrical sockets again?" he demanded of his brother.

"Derp?" was all Finn could muster as he wiped the crust from his eyes.

That was Santana's cue to start braying like a donkey, choking on her cantaloupe and causing her eyes to water. Sam settled for staring. He himself wasn't a morning person, despite the fact that he was now involved with two such people, but this was just ridiculous.

"Dude," he said slowly to Finn, "are you okay?"

Finn grunted and absently scratched his stomach before releasing a rather loud fart.

Santana's mouth fell open, cantaloupe dripping onto her plate.

"Unacceptable," Kurt said firmly, before attacking Finn with a can of Lysol. "Out! Out of my kitchen, you uncouth plebeian!"

"Wha?"

"Finn Hudson!" Kurt snapped. "You have just stumbled into our kitchen looking like something the cat threw up while passing gas so poisonous, I had flashbacks of Noah after all-you-can-eat Taquito Night at Breadstix!"

"Who's Noah?" asked a drowsy Finn.

"Noah Puckerman!"

"Oh, him." Finn looked around and startled. "Dude! Why didn't you tell me they were here?" he shrieked, pointing at Sam and Santana. "I could have walked in here naked!"

"There's not enough therapy in the world to heal those images seared in my mind," Sam drawled, shuddering. "Locker rooms," he said mournfully. "Who knew?"

Santana snorted. "Trust me, seeing it up close and personal was certainly no walk in the park."

Finn blinked. "Everyone in this room has seen me naked," he realized, horror dawning in his mind.

"Indeed," Kurt said, nodding. "This is our support group meeting. Rachel should be arriving momentarily."

"She hasn't seen me naked," Finn said, pouting.

Kurt shook his head. "Now I'm forced to eat my words. For once, I _am_ jealous of Rachel Berry."

Santana nodded and turned to Sam. "I guess Berry _is_ smarter than she looks." She cocked her head. "Then again, she'd have to be."

He snickered.

Finn knew there was no graceful way out of this, so he decided instead to play on Kurt's sympathy, which he did all too frequently but to great effect.

"Kurty," he whined, pushing out his lower lip, "my arm hurts."

Kurt immediately launched into Florence Nightingale mode, ushering Finn to a seat at the table and then flying around the room to prepare his brother's breakfast. Sam and Santana were amused and frightened. Finn smirked triumphantly at them.

"You may share this house, Hudson," Santana said in a low voice, "but we share his bed."

Finn gulped and looked at Sam, whose eyes were gleaming and predatory. "You three...didn't...last night, right?"

Sam merely sipped his decaf coffee while Santana finished her cantaloupe.

Finn felt faint. He couldn't tell if Santana was lying or not; she was so good it, it was rare that she got caught. He knew she and Sam had spent the night last night - _in Kurt's bedroom_ \- and, since it was soundproofed, they totally could have made the beast with two backs and no one would have been the wiser!

Three backs.

Huh. He wondered how that worked.

Kurt suddenly materialized at his side and began fussing over him, making Finn feel warm and fuzzy inside. He watched his brother with dewy eyes as Kurt tucked a napkin into the neck of his t-shirt and began cutting up his waffles.

"Are you going to feed him, too?" Santana snidely asked.

Kurt gave Finn a serious look. "Do you need me to?"

Sam curled his lip in derision.

"No, thank you," Finn said politely. "Thank you for breakfast, Kurt. It looks delicious."

Kurt beamed at him and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Finn blushed and became smug once more.

"I think I'm going into insulin shock," Santana drawled.

Sam nodded. "I just threw up a little in my mouth."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing," Finn said.

They rolled their eyes.

"And so are you in anything yellow," Santana said, eyeing his t-shirt with disdain.

Kurt swatted his brother on the shoulder. "Be nice. I was always civil to Rachel when she darkened our doorstep, and I will be the same with Quinn. Therefore, I expect you to treat my boyfriend and girlfriend with the same courtesy."

Finn's eyes widened. "So I didn't hallucinate you three making out in the hall last night?"

"Were you spying?" Kurt asked sharply.

Finn shook his head frantically. "No. I came down to get a glass of water. The medicine made my mouth taste like I'd just run a load of sweaty jockstraps through it."

Kurt shuddered. "Nice visual."

"Thanks!"

Kurt sighed. "At any rate, no, you didn't hallucinate anything. As of last night, I am dating Sam and Santana."

Finn shrugged. "You can thank me now."

Kurt raised a brow. "I should thank you?"

Finn nodded. "For getting you to realize it."

Kurt froze, his mind overtaken by horrible certainty. "Everything you said last night...you _planned_ that? You knew I was in love with them?"

"In love?" Finn repeated, his voice squeaking slightly. "I didn't know you were _in love_ with them, but I knew you liked them a lot and that they made you happy."

Sam made big cow eyes at Kurt while Santana looked inordinately proud of herself.

Finn shook his head to clear it. "Love. Wow, really?" He looked at Sam and Santana. "You guys should thank me, too."

Santana glared. "How about I thank you with a swift kick to your crotchal area?" she barked. "We don't owe you crap, Hudson, or did you forget that it was _you_ who torpedoed Sam's last relationship?"

Finn's blank look suggested that he had, in fact, forgotten that little detail.

Kurt rolled his eyes and wrote it off to the medication.

"I'm really, really sorry, Sam," Finn whispered.

"It's fine," Sam said evenly. "I'm much happier with Kurt and Santana than I ever was with _her_ ," he said, a streak of viciousness entering his voice.

Santana looked smug. Kurt, on the other hand, raced to Sam's side and fawned all over him, which Sam found to be very pleasurable indeed. Finn looked like an abandoned puppy about to be shipped off to a kill shelter.

"Hudson!" Santana snapped, pleased when Finn flinched. "Know this: we'll tolerate your relationship with Tink because you're his brother, but if you ever try to come between the three of us, I'll separate your balls with a pair of pinking shears."

Finn blinked. "What are pinking shears?"

Kurt smiled fondly at both of them while perched atop Sam's lap. "They're the ones that make the zigzag cuts, Finn."

Santana smiled, nodded happily, and made a scissoring motion with her fingers. Finn paled, very sure it was a scissoring motion distinctly different from the one Brittany had once enjoyed.

Sam wrapped an arm around Kurt and pulled the other boy flush against him, causing Kurt to blush severely.

"Hey," Sam whispered.

"Hello, Sam Evans," Kurt said quietly.

"I love you."

Kurt fidgeted. "I love you, too."

Finn sighed and shook his head.

"What?" Santana demanded.

"It's just...you all look good together, you know?" Finn said. "Right, or something. I'm happy for you."

Santana stared back at him, her face entirely blank.

"Thank you, Finn," Kurt said warmly. "That makes me very happy."

Finn shot him a brilliant smile and silently ate his breakfast.

Sam and Santana shared a Look. Either Finn was being truthful, which was shocking, or he was setting them up for some ill-advised scheme. Regardless, it was annoying.

"Are you guys telling people," Finn asked, "or should I keep my mouth shut?"

"Are you actually capable of doing that?" Santana barked.

Finn shrugged. "For Kurt? Yeah."

Sam frowned. He had underestimated just how much Finn cared for his brother. His brow furrowed as he considered their previous interactions regarding Kurt. Had Finn warned him away from Kurt all those months ago because he had been jealous? Because that was totally not cool. Still...if Finn was supporting Kurt now, had actually _manipulated Kurt_ into confessing his feelings, perhaps Finn wasn't such a total douchebag. He supposed time would tell.

"We're not hiding anything," Sam said slowly, "but we're not sure if we want to make a big deal out of it, either."

Finn snorted as he sipped his orange juice. "No offense, but Kurt dating _anyone_ is going to be a big deal at McKinley, for whatever reason."

Kurt nodded sadly. "He's right."

"We'll just stick to the plan and everything will be fine," Santana said.

"Plan?" Finn repeated.

Kurt patted his hand. "You don't get to know the plan, sweetie. You know how you give things away without meaning to do so."

Finn pouted.

"Oh, cheer up, Hudson," Santana said, a sour look on her face. "Tink will be spending the whole day shepherding your ass around the school. Enjoy your fraternal bonding."

Finn's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Even Sam thought it was sweet, though he still wanted to gag.

The thought of gagging triggered thoughts of Kurt, who was sitting on his lap in very tight pants.

"Well, hello," Kurt purred, shifting inappropriately.

Santana quirked a brow, leaned over, and poked Kurt in the side. "If Blondie's dick has a theme song, I need one for my vag, too. I'm all about equality." She blinked. "When it suits me."

Kurt smirked.

"How about the theme from _Jaws_?" Sam suggested.

Santana eyed him. "Your Bitch Game is slowly but surely getting on point. Well done."

Kurt snickered and shook his head. "No, Sam. Hers would be the theme from _The Godfather_."

Sam nodded. "Of course."

She preened.

Finn paled. "You guys," he whined, pushing away his plate for effect, even though it was empty.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Get over it."

Finn grunted. "Look, I know Sam and Santana probably don't care, but I want you all to know that I'm on your side. I totally support you." He frowned. "Well, I support Kurt."

"Thank you, Finn," Kurt bleated.

Sam was immediately suspicious, as was Santana.

"You're going to support us _openly_?" Santana demanded. "Because people are going to shit on Hot Lips for this."

Finn shook his head resolutely. "They won't. I actually thought about this!"

Santana stared.

"I did!" he protested. "Okay, just hear me out. First of all, no one wants to go against you, Lopez. Two, as much as Kurt was bullied, a big part of that was because the bullies knew he wouldn't strike back as long as it was aimed at him. It's a whole other ball game when Kurt's friends are threatened."

Santana considered that statement and began nodding. "True," she said grudgingly. "That's retaliation they definitely wouldn't want. Tink would rain sulfur down upon them."

Kurt smirked.

Finn nodded brightly. "Three, I'm on your side. I don't have as much pull as I once did, but Quinn _does_. She still loves Kurt, even though they're not friends anymore. She also still feels guilty because of what we did to Sam, so if she can, in any way, help Sam be happy, she'll do it, and a lot of people are afraid of her."

Sam mumbled unintelligibly and Santana scowled, but Kurt's smirk simply grew wider, as if these were points he had already taken into account.

"Four," Finn added, actually counting on his fingers, "Puck is Sam's best friend and won't let anyone hurt him. Plus, he's totally crushing on Kurt."

"What," Kurt, Sam, and Santana intoned.

"Not like that," Finn said, rolling his eyes in a manner which was clearly copied from Kurt. "Puck likes that Kurt stands up to him. Puck likes to fight, and Kurt is pretty much the only one who will fight him anymore. Kurt always gets the last word, and Puck hates that, but he respects Kurt for being so bitchy."

Sam nodded. "And what about Mercedes and Rachel?" he said to Kurt, who was pressed up against him as though afraid Sam might run away. Which was pretty ridiculous, since Sam didn't think anything could feel better than Kurt pressed up against him. Unless it was Santana. Or Santana _and_ Kurt.

He blinked. "I just realized something."

Santana snickered.

Kurt smiled knowingly at Sam. "Did you figure out that having a girlfriend _and_ a boyfriend means you get twice the cuddles?"

Sam blushed.

"And orgasms?" Santana helpfully added.

"Urk," Sam wheezed.

"Aw, man!" Finn whined.

His breakfast was ruined. Thank goodness he'd already eaten all of it.

"I'll handle Mercedes and Rachel," said a mysterious Kurt.

"And how will you do that?" Santana demanded.

He turned to look at her and quirked a brow. "Are you _new_? I'm Kurt Hummel."

 


End file.
